


lost under the surface (but i'm feeling just fine)

by ZombieBabs



Series: Lost Under The Surface 'Verse [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Panic Attacks, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 34,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: “I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is raw. It’s never sounded like this before.What is happening to him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't satisfied with Jumin's route. Jumin wasn't really...broken enough for me. So, starting from mid day seven or so, here is my version of events. 
> 
> I'm also not interested in rehashing events exactly as they happened in the game, so if you're looking for verbatim chat logs, this is not the fic for you.

His heart is beating too fast in his chest. His breath is coming out in short little gasps. He bends forward, curling in on himself, his hand clenched in the fabric of his designer shirt, over his heart. His hair falls forward, obscuring his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need to see. He just needs to survive, somehow.

What is this feeling? 

What _emotion_ has taken hold of him now?

How do people cope, with feelings such as these? How do they go about their everyday lives? 

He feels like he’s dying, like he might keel over dead at any moment--his heart burst in his chest or suffocated because his lungs refuse to work as they should.

It isn’t because of Zen’s dream. He doesn’t believe in nonsense like that. But, Elizabeth the 3rd. She could still be in trouble. Glam and Sarah have already shown that they will stop at nothing to get their way. They’ve already gotten their hooks into his father. What if they try to take Elizabeth away from him? What if they kidnapped her, in order to force him into marriage?

He can’t--he can’t let that happen. He cannot let anything happen to his precious Elizabeth, the only creature on Earth who understands him, who doesn’t expect anything from him, beyond his love and affection and food at regular hours.

There is a plaintive cry and then the fluffy, white form of Elizabeth the 3rd rubs up against his slacks. She’s purrs, winds her way through his legs, nuzzles his calves. She looks up at him with her blue, blue eyes and he loses himself in them. She blinks slowly and he follows, trying to match her calm.

The panic recedes, like a wave on the shore of a beach. It had crashed over him, sudden, violent, but now it draws backward, back into the unfathomable sea of emotion somewhere deep inside of him. Jumin picks Elizabeth the 3rd up, holds her close. She purrs louder and once she’s close enough, rises up in his arms in order to headbutt him gently. Jumin buries his face in her fur and just breathes.

“I have to do something,” he tells her. “How can I be expected to leave you if you’re in danger?”

Elizabeth meows.

Jumin takes on last long inhale and puts Elizabeth back down on the floor. 

“I love you,” he says. “I won’t be able to bear it if something were to happen to you.”

Elizabeth sits, tucking her tail around her. She yawns, then looks up at him.

“Were I to do something drastic, Elizabeth--you would still love me, wouldn’t you?”

Elizabeth doesn’t answer. Of course she doesn’t. He doesn’t expect her to. In spite of his strong love for her, Jumin does understand that Elizabeth is a cat, not a human being. She isn’t capable of human speech and understanding.

The security guard meets him at the front door.

“Sir,” the man says, coming to attention. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Jumin shakes his head. “No, thank you--actually, yes.”

If the security guard is affected by Jumin’s abrupt change in answer, he doesn’t show it.

“I need to go to the pet store,” Jumin continues. “Please have Driver Kim meet me downstairs.”

On his way down to the lobby floor, Jumin’s cell phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket. He doesn’t have to check to know that it must be Jaehee. 

He doesn’t answer it.

 

He returns from the pet store with the biggest cage that he can find. It’s almost large enough for him to crawl into it. Certainly, there will be enough room for Elizabeth the 3rd, without being too crowded.

He places it in the corner of the room. He shoves pillows onto the floor of the cage, so that Elizabeth’s dainty paws will not be hurt by the steel bars. He places a bowl of water and a small litter tray into the cage, as well. Finally, he allows her inquisitive nose to inspect the cage, closing the door after she makes her way over the threshold.

She blinks at him, turning her head to the side. She turns, then sniffs at the door. She paws at the door, her claws appearing to force the door open when it doesn’t budge. When that fails, she looks up at him again, crying softly.

Jumin falls to his knees in front of the cage. His sticks his fingers through the slots of the cage for Elizabeth the 3rd to sniff. She rubs her whiskered cheek against the tips of his fingers.

There is something new pulling at him, some new emotion. It feels heavy in his gut. Is this guilt? Or shame for being unable to find another way to protect her?

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is raw. It’s never sounded like this before.

What is happening to him?

Instead of going to work as he intended, Jumin sits in front of Elizabeth’s cage, feeling more and more upset with each of Elizabeth the 3rd’s cries.

 

Jaehee finds him, hours later. 

He hears the knock at the front door, but he doesn’t move. He can’t find the strength to get up from the spot in front of Elizabeth the 3rd’s cage. Elizabeth has long since curled up on one of the pillows, her back to him, ignoring her neglectful owner.

His legs have long since gone numb.

In fact, _everything_ feels numb.

He closes his eyes and lets his head hang forward, resting his forehead against the cold steel of the cage.

The front door opens. Jaehee and the bodyguard argue, but she pushes her way inside with furious _click-clop-clicks_ of her heels. 

“Mr. Han!” she calls, as if he could be hiding somewhere in the penthouse. “Mr. Ha--”

The clicking of her heels stops short. Presumably, she has seen him, caught him in this moment of weakness.

“Mr. Han,” she says again, but this time, her voice is quieter. Timid, perhaps. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t.”

“What--what are you doing? Why is Elizabeth the 3rd in a cage?”

Jumin shakes his head. His fingers grip the bars of the cage. “Please excuse me, Assistant Kang. I’ll return to work shortly.”

Jaehee click-clacks her way toward him. She kneels down beside him, careful of her skirt. “You don’t look well, Mr. Han.”

His need to overcome his emotions wins out over his disinterest in lying. “I’m fine.”

Jumin sits up. He attempts to stand, but his legs refuse to cooperate. He stumbles, only avoiding a fall when Jaehee places an arm around his waist to steady him.

His assistant looks up at him with large, surprised eyes. “Mr. Han--”

He tries to push her away, intent on standing on his own. He makes it another two steps before his knees give out underneath him.

Jaehee is there in an instant. She must have been hovering close. Her small hands are warm against him, even through the layers of his usual three piece suit. “I’m helping you to the bed.”

Her tone brooks no argument. Jumin can’t find a logical excuse to deny her. 

She walks with him, supporting him, to his bed. He sits down on the edge of it, feeling heavy, like his limbs are full of cement.

“You should sleep. Please come back to work once you feel better.”

He nods. Or he thinks he does. He raises his eyes to look at her, but finds himself alone in his penthouse. 

How long had he been sitting here, staring out at nothing? How had he not heard the front door as she exited?

Had she even been in the penthouse, to begin with?

Jumin lets himself fall backwards onto the mattress. His suit will be wrinkled, if he sleeps in it, but he can’t bring himself to care. Curling up on his side, Jumin closes his eyes and wills himself to enter the comforting nothingness of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It feels like M.C. spends the entire day arguing with the members of the RFA.

Until now, they have all acted civilly towards one another. Zen, it seems, has always had something against Jumin. And sweet, little Yoosung seems to have trouble trusting V. But today, it seems like _everyone_ has it out for Jumin. Jumin, who is obviously having a difficult time now that his father is trying to force him into an arranged marriage.

M.C. wouldn’t want to go into work, either, if she were him. Not when Glam and Sarah have shown themselves to be willing to burst into important, confidential meetings, uninvited and unannounced. And certainly not if he thought his cat might be in danger of being catnapped in order to force him into accepting the marriage offer. If her own cat was ever in danger, she would be beside herself with worry. She can completely understand Jumin’s current distress.

_He shouldn’t have to bring Elizabeth the 3rd to the office with him_ , M.C. types into the RFA chatroom. _That’s my whole point_. 

**Yoosung:** Yeah, but he left Jaehee with all that work!

**Yoosung:** I understand that he’s worried about Elizabeth, but he’s not being very considerate.

**Yoosung:** I thought I wanted to work at Jumin’s company after school, but now…;;

**M.C.:** Well, it’s technically her job, right? If she doesn’t like it, she should just quit.

**707:** !!!

**707:** lololol

**Yoosung:** I don’t know much about the situation

**Yoosung:** but it’s probably not that simple.

**707:** ya

**M.C.:** Don’t just say ya. This is serious.

**M.C.:** It sucks that Jaehee has been left with all this work, but maybe she wouldn’t have to do so much if any of you offered to help, instead of complaining once Jumin shows one ounce of emotion.

**707:** M.C. is all FIRED UP.

**M.C.:** How would you feel if you were in trouble, but all anyone could say was something critical?

**M.C.:** What if someone stole one of your babies, Seven? Or, Yoosung, what if someone stole your LOLOL login? And instead of helping, everyone just mocked you?

**707:** :o :o :o

**Yoosung:** don’t say things like that T_T

**Yoosung:** And, anyways, Jumin doesn’t care.

**Yoosung:** He’s like a robot.

**Yoosung:** He’s just not affected by things like that.

**707:** 01110010 01101111 01100010 01101111 01110100 

**Yoosung:** what ^^;;

**M.C.:** He’s not a robot, he’s a human being. And a member of the RFA. Shouldn’t everyone be encouraging him, instead of teasing him? He’s having a really hard time right now.

**M.C.:** You know what, I have some work to do. I’ll talk to you all later.

She doesn’t mean to logout in a huff, but there are only so many times she can reiterate the same sentiment. 

She...likes Jumin. She feels a fluttering in her chest whenever she sees his name appear in the chatroom. Or when he texts her personally. But that isn’t why she’s so ‘fired up,’ as 707 had said. She would be angry on any of the member’s behalf, if the others were behaving the same way towards them.

It just seems...unfair. Jumin has gone out of his way to ensure their safety, sending them bodyguards, just in case the hacker intends to harm any of them in the real world. Perhaps, not out of his way, but he certainly hadn’t needed to do so. M.C. figures they’re all safe, at least until they all get together for the party. And by then, she hopes that the hacker will have been taken care of. But for everyone’s peace of mind, Jumin had provided extra security.

Now, Jumin is hurt and obviously confused as to how to handle the emotions being dredged up. After a lifetime of putting on an unconcerned, logical front, M.C. imagines the feelings he’s now experiencing have to be painful. 

He’d said, himself, that being ‘upset’ was new to him.

Not for the first time, M.C. wishes she weren’t stuck inside of Rika’s apartment. She’d like to see Jumin, at least for her own satisfaction, just to show herself that he isn’t falling apart. She wants to be able to help Jumin, in whatever capacity she can, instead of being stuck in someone else’s apartment, coordinating a party that she still isn’t one hundred percent certain of its purpose.

She gets a little more work done for the party, throwing herself into e-mailing potential guests in order to forget her frustration with the RFA members. Absorbed in the work, she nearly jumps in surprise when her phone buzzes in her hands. Jaehee’s name pops onto the screen. M.C. swipes at the screen to answer the call.

“Hello? Is everything okay?”

Jaehee doesn’t answer right away. “Hello, M.C.. I’m afraid that something has...happened.”

“With Jumin? Have Glam or Sarah done something?”

“It is...difficult to explain,” Jaehee says. “Mr. Han is not--he isn’t--I’ve never seen him like this, truthfully.”

M.C. bites her bottom lip. “Is there anything I can do? I just wish--I just wish I could go see him, you know?”

Jaehee sighs. “I am relieved to hear you say that. I wasn’t certain how to broach the subject, but I had actually come to ask a favor of you, M.C..”

“What is it? I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“You seem to have,” Jaehee pauses, searching for the correct words, “a certain connection with Mr. Han. Out of all of us, you’ve been here the shortest amount of time, but he seems to trust you the most. He _talks_ to you. Which is why I thought--would you--would it be possible--?”

“Jaehee,” M.C. says, “You can ask whatever it is you need to ask.”

“If I provided transportation, could you come to the C&R building? I think Mr. Han might benefit from seeing you.”

M.C. sits back in Rika’s desk chair, taken aback by the request. “I thought I was stuck inside this apartment?”

“I asked Seven to watch over you via CCTV. If anything happens, he should be able to stop it before you come into any danger.”

“I--yeah, okay,” M.C. says. “But no one is allowed to know where the apartment is. How will you get transportation to me?”

“I will text you an address. I’ll send Driver Kim to meet you there and take you to the C&R building. Security should let you through to Mr. Han’s penthouse.” Jaehee pauses. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure, Jaehee. Send me the address. If he’s as bad as you say, I’d like to get there sooner, rather than later.”

“Okay. Thank you, M.C.. Let me know if you have any problems.”

“I will.”

M.C. says her goodbyes and ends the call. While she waits for Jaehee to send her an address, she quickly gathers what she can from Rika’s apartment. She had had her backpack with her when Unknown had first led her to its location. She shoves her laptop and charger back into it. She also rummages through Rika’s closets to find an extra pair of clothes, some pajamas, and a first aid kit. She has no idea what to expect, but she’s always thought it better to be overly prepared than underprepared for any situation.

Her phone buzzes with Jaehee’s text. M.C. clicks on the address, opening the GPA application.

She’s a little nervous leaving the apartment. She has no idea if the hacker is watching her, somehow. But she isn’t accosted on her way out of the building, nor when she steps foot out on the streets.

She follows the directions given by the GPS. Without any trouble, she finds herself at the specified location, which turns out to be a park, with a large statue and fountain visible from the gated entrance.

There is a sleek, black sedan waiting for her. The windows are blacked out, impossible to see through. M.C. would be wary of it, were there not a uniformed gentleman standing by the hood, a sign with M.C.’s name printed on the front in big, bold letters. 

M.C. holds out her hand. “Driver Kim? I’m M.C.. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The gentleman smiles and takes her hand. He shakes it, then, without a word, ushers her to enter the back seat. He opens the door for her and shuts it as soon as M.C. is settled in her seat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, M.C. and Jumin finally meet. :)
> 
> Just a word of caution: I was very annoyed with my choices for Jumin's route. Either passively let him dominate me and hope he feels better soon or egg him on and turn him into Kink Master Daddy (not that there is anything wrong with that, but it just doesn't seem like the safe, sane, and consensual way to go about it)? How about M.C. does what she went to Jumin's apartment to do? Try to help him work out his crazy ass feelings? That's what this fic is all about, so hopefully no one is disappointed with my version of events.

Driver Kim turns out to be a silent older man, with touches of grey at his temples, just below his hat. He checks on her throughout the drive, wise brown eyes watching her through the rearview mirror every time they hit traffic.

M.C. fiddles with her phone in her hand, feeling nervous. She checks the RFA chatroom, just for something to take her mind off her anxiety. Yoosung is there, once again. M.C. really has no idea if the kid actually attends classes, or just says that he does. He expresses his worry for Jumin, mollifying her a little from their earlier argument. 

There is more bad news, of course. It seems that more articles have surfaced. Rumors of Jumin’s arranged marriage have been leaked to the press. M.C. consoles herself that without proof, the gossip can only be taken as just that--gossip. But it could still be enough to damage his reputation, if they aren’t quick to correct the press’s assumption.

Finally, they make it to the C&R building. It’s tall, with mirrored glass windows stretching up toward the sky. Driver Kim opens the door for her once again. With a bow, he gestures for her to enter the the glass doors. 

Jaehee is there, a clipboard in her hands. She looks around the lobby, her eyes moving from person to person, before they land on M.C.. Jaehee straightens and takes a step towards her. “M.C.?”

M.C. smiles. “That’s me. It’s good to meet you, Jaehee.”

Jaehee’s smile matches hers, but there are obvious dark circles under her eyes that belie her exhaustion. “Yes, my sentiments exactly.”

“There haven’t been any changes for the worst, I hope? Traffic kind of sucked or I would have been here sooner.”

Jaehee shakes her head. “You got here as soon as you were able. I’m sure Mr. Han will appreciate your visit.”

M.C. looks around the lobby, taking in the corporate air and busy people moving through the spacious area. Her gaze catches on the elevator.

“I’ve told security of your arrival. They should allow you to enter Mr. Han’s penthouse without any problem. I would love to talk more with you, but in these circumstances, it might be best for you to go without any further delays, don’t you think?”

“That might be for the best,” M.C. agrees. “Once this has been taken care of, I want to meet with you for coffee, okay?”

Jaehee smiles and this time her eyes are a little brighter. “Okay. Thank you, M.C..”

 

The elevator ride is awkward, shared between her and an intimidating security guard. He presses the button for Jumin’s penthouse and then doesn’t say a word until they reach Jumin’s floor. Another security guard meets them when the doors slide open and M.C. follows him down a long hallway to the door of an apartment, where there is a third security guard posted. The second security guard joins the third security guard on the other side of the door.

“We’ve been instructed to let you in, Ms. M.C.,” says the third security guard. He stares straight ahead, not looking at M.C. as he speaks.

M.C. shakes her head and tries the door. The handle turns in her grasp without any problems. Still expecting to be stopped by one of the guards at any moment, M.C. pushes the door open and enters Jumin’s penthouse apartment. 

The interior is dark. The only light comes from floor to ceiling windows along one of the walls, but it’s gotten late and the sun is already setting behind the cityscape. M.C. looks for a light switch, wondering if Jumin is even home, when a pitiful cry stops her.

There is a large cage, set out of the way. Inside is a beautiful white Persian cat with bright blue eyes. 

“What in the world?” M.C. says, bending down to inspect the cat. “Elizabeth the 3rd. Why are you in a cage?”

Elizabeth sniffs at M.C.’s fingers, inspecting the newcomer.

M.C. stands. From the soft glow of a vertical aquarium, she can see a large bed pushed against the wall. Curled on the bed is the form of a man.

“Jumin?” M.C. calls, unsure if she should be waking him up. But she would feel awkward being in his home without his knowledge.

She moves closer to the bed, noticing that Jumin is still dressed in a full three piece suit. His hair is a wild mess against the duvet. She reaches out, her fingers ghosting across his forehead, moving stray strands of raven hair out of his face.

He wakes with a gasp. Black eyes shoot open and Jumin flinches away from M.C.’s hand. “Who--?”

M.C. smiles. “Hello, Jumin. It’s me, M.C..”

He sits up, his eyes wide. “It’s--you? Why--why are you here?”

“I was worried about you. I had Jaehee help me find my way to you.”

Jumin’s hand goes to his wrist, fiddling with silver cufflinks. “Worried? You shouldn’t have come. It’s dangerous. Assistant Kang should not have--”

“Hey,” M.C. says, gentle as she interrupts him. “Don’t blame Jaehee. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

He doesn’t answer. Not in the span of one breath, nor two. He shakes himself out of his silence. “I was staring. I apologize.”

M.C. laughs. “I was staring, too. To be honest, it’s strange to be here.”

“I admit, I am nervous. To have you in my home.”

M.C. blinks, trying to hide her disappointment. “Do you want me to go?”

“No!” Both of Jumin’s hands jump up, taking one of her hands between them. He closes his eyes, looking pained at his outburst. “I mean, no. I’d like you to stay. Please.”

“If you’re sure?”

Jumin nods. “I am sure. I would not have let you come, if I had known. But now that you’re here...”

He trails off, his black eyes staring at her once more. 

M.C. smiles and sits down beside him on the bed, her hand still trapped in both of his. Jumin’s eyes go wide, faint color staining his cheeks. He averts his gaze, down to the comforter between them. 

“Stay,” he says, after a long moment.

Jumin flinches when M.C. begins to caress the skin along his thumb with her own. He doesn’t pull away, but swallows and allows the touch. M.C. wonders how long it’s been since anyone has touched him with the intention to comfort.

“I just got here,” she says. 

“The night, I mean.” He seems to realize how his words sound almost as soon as they leave his mouth. He looks up at her, panic sparking behind the obsidian of his eyes. “It’s late. I couldn’t bare the thought of anything happening to you on your way back to Rika’s apartment. Since I do not know where it is, I could not send bodyguards with you, to keep you safe.”

M.C. bites her bottom lip. Sure, she had packed an extra change of clothes, but to have him offer to have her stay, when she can see that his penthouse is built like a large studio apartment, with no guest room for her to stay in, she feels suddenly nervous.

“I--” his voice breaks. A flash of frustration passes over his face before he can school it back into place. “I promise, nothing untoward would happen. I couldn’t--I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Jumin. I trust you. And I’ll stay, if it makes you feel better. That’s the whole reason I came, in the first place.”

His mouth drops partially open in what looks like surprise. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

He lets go of her hand. He straightens, building up a wall around him. M.C. knows that putting distance between himself and his emotions has always been his defense mechanism, but she also knows that refusing to cope with them is part of the reason why he’s in the current situation. That, and the fact that stress piled upon stress was bound to break him eventually. But she doesn’t really know what to say to get him to halt his metaphorical construction. She supposes, if she plans on staying the night, there will be plenty of opportunity.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. “I can call the chef, if you are hungry. If you’re thirsty, I can have my sommelier bring something from my private stock.”

“You don’t need to go through all that trouble, Jumin.”

He opens his mouth, but shuts it quickly. “But, I--”

“You don’t need to impress me with things like that. If you were going to call your chef to order yourself dinner, then yes, I would love to join you. Otherwise, I assume you have to have some kind of food in your kitchen?”

He blinks, as if he’d never expected someone to turn down an offer of a luxurious dinner, complete with what she assumes to be an expensive wine pairing. His hand comes up to cover his eyes and he mutters, “It’s too soon.”

“What’s too soon?” M.C. asks. “Dinner? We can wait to eat if you aren’t hungry, yet.”

Jumin shakes his head, still hiding his eyes behind his hand. “I don’t want to frighten you.”

“I don’t follow.” She smiles, even if he cannot see her. “What about dinner do you think could scare me?”

“Not dinner,” he says.

“Then, what? Would it help if I promised not to be frightened?”

“I could not hold you to that promise. The strength of my feelings--it frightens me. That I want--”

M.C. pulls Jumin’s hand away from his face, only to see conflict raging behind his eyes. The wall he’d built has completely crumbled away. “What do you want, Jumin?”

He’s silent for a long time. “I never thought I could have you. But the strength of my regard--I want to keep you with me, forever. I want to put you in a cage next to Elizabeth, to keep you safe, but also because I selfishly don’t want anyone else’s eyes to behold your beauty. I want to buy you dresses, and twist your hair into elegant styles. I want to choose the color of lipstick you wear upon your lips and polish you wear upon your nails. I want to--” He breaks off, having realized just how much he had revealed. But now that he’s started, he seems to find courage in the fact that M.C. has not yet run from him. “I want to kiss you. I want to make you mine. And only mine.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jumin is drowning. It’s impossible to breathe after his confession. There is a heaviness sitting on his chest, a pressure similar to being several meters under water. His heart is racing. It tries to pump oxygen into his veins, but there just isn’t enough of it. He sways, feeling lightheaded.

M.C. bites her bottom lip. It does nothing to assuage the urge he feels to kiss her, to claim her lips as his own. “Jumin…”

He doesn’t want to see her reaction. Doesn’t want to see the trust she has mistakenly put in him disappear, to evaporate into thin air. But when he closes his eyes and tries to turn his head away from her, he feels gentle fingertips guide him back.

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Jumin, it’s okay.”

He shakes his head. It isn’t. It isn’t okay. It’s wrong of him to want what he wants.

M.C.’s fingers travel up from his chin to cup the side of his face. “Listen to me, Jumin. I like you, very much. And while I’m not really interested in being caged nor controlled, I can understand where you’re coming from. These feelings you’re experiencing are new and are probably very confusing. You’re anxious about losing Elizabeth and you didn’t expect your--your regard for me to be as strong as it is, after so short a time. And on top of all of that, you’re upset that your father would try to push you into an arranged marriage. Anyone else would be having a difficult time, if they were in your shoes.”

He searches her face as he tries to digest her words. All he can see in her eyes is open honesty and trust.

It fills him with awe. How could one person be so good? So uninterested in his wealth and what he can provide for her with his money? So understanding and non-judgmental? It goes against everything he’s ever experienced in his life, everything he was taught to expect as a man in his social station.

“You must be tired,” he says. “It’s been...an exhausting day, if I am honest. Would you like to rest now?”

“Sure,” M.C. says. She picks up a backpack from the floor by her feet. He hadn’t even realized she’d had it with her. “Is there somewhere I can change?”

He directs her to his bathroom. He watches her until the door closes behind her.

He should change, as well. Jumin looks down to see his suit wrinkled beyond salvaging. He’ll have to have Jaehee send it out for dry cleaning, as soon as possible. Even the act of standing, however, takes more out of him than he expects. 

He feels like he’s moving against a fast-moving current. Like, if he isn’t careful, he might be swept under, without any hope of rising to the surface. Jumin pushes passed the feeling, however, just as he’s always done. It’s more difficult than he recalls it being. As if now that the floodgates have opened, the rush of his emotions is too strong to shut them correctly.

He picks a pair of pajama pants out of his dresser. Normally, he sleeps without a shirt, but for M.C.’s sake, he’ll wear one of the cotton T-shirts he wears under his dress shirts.

On top of the anxiety already sitting beneath his skin, he can’t help but feel nervous. He’s never had a woman stay the night with him before. He has no idea what she expects from him. 

Holding his change of clothes under one arm, his fingers toy with one of his cufflinks as he waits for M.C. to emerge from the bathroom.

When she does, she smells of mint. Her hair has been pulled up into a messy bun. Her makeup has been washed away. She’s wearing a large T-shirt with just the barest hint of shorts peeking from underneath the hem. She smiles at him and his breath catches.

She’s beautiful.

“Your turn,” she says.

He nods, forcing his eyes away from her. He ignores the urge to take her in his arms as he walks passed her. When he shuts the door behind himself, he catches a glimpse of her making herself comfortable in his bed.

His mouth goes dry. He leans up against the door for a long moment and allows himself to breathe through his conflicting emotions. 

He wants to keep her safe. From Sarah and Glam, from the hacker, from the rest of the world. 

From himself. 

But he _wants_ her. _Needs_ her, in a way that he’s never needed anyone before.

It was a mistake to ask her to stay.

He knows that now.

But he also cannot make her leave. Not now. Not when he has her here, all to himself.

Jumin shakes his head. His thoughts are already all over the place. It would do him no good to allow them to stray into dangerous territory.

He changes out of his clothing and into his pajamas. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face. 

He feels a little better, by the time he’s ready to leave the bathroom. Steadier, at the least.

M.C. is frowning down at her phone, sitting up against the headboard of his bed, her legs hidden beneath the duvet. 

“I apologize,” Jumin says. “If I kept you waiting.”

Her expression softens when M.C. looks up at him. “Jumin. You look different.”

Jumin looks down at himself. “Different?”

“Not a bad different. Just different.” M.C. smiles. “I was just checking the messenger before bed.”

Moving across the room, Jumin hesitates beside the bed. He has no idea what M.C. would consider appropriate. Should he sit down? “You did not appear to be having a good time. Is it Assistant Kang? I should apologize to her for missing work.”

As if understanding his inner struggle, M.C. pats the mattress beside her. 

Jumin perches at the edge of the mattress. He can’t imagine that she would want him to intrude on her space any further than that.

But M.C. frowns. Taking his hand in hers, she gently tugs. “It’s your bed, Jumin. And there’s enough room for the both of us.”

His limbs stiff with apprehension, Jumin settles on the bed beside her. 

M.C. squeezes his hand before both of hers return to her phone. Her fingers fly over the screen. The ping of chat bubbles being sent and received fills the silence of Jumin’s penthouse.

Jumin reaches out to where his own cell phone has been charging on the bedside table. He’s almost afraid to see what kind of messages are waiting for him.

M.C. stops him before he can unlock it. Her hand is warm against the skin of his arm. “Dont. You already have enough to worry about. It can wait until tomorrow.”

Unable to deny her anything, he places the phone back on the table. The smile M.C. rewards him with sends a rush of _something_ , an emotion altogether like how he feels after closing an important business deal, but sweeter, more pleasant, through him.

“Let me finish up here and then we can sleep?”

Jumin nods. His fingers search out his wrist, out of habit, but he doesn’t have any cufflinks. _This_ , strangely, is what makes him feel the most vulnerable--almost naked--in front of M.C.. 

Finally, M.C. puts down her phone. “Is Zen always such an asshole?”

Jumin starts at the question. “What?” 

“I get that he doesn’t like you--for _whatever_ reason. That’s his prerogative. But seriously, I just had to go off at him for some of the things he was saying in the chat.”

“What sort of things?”

M.C. shakes her head. “I don’t want to repeat them. Suffice to say, I thought he was nice when I first joined the RFA. If a bit stuck up. But now? I have no idea how you put up with him.”

Her phone lights up in her hand, Zen’s name and picture taking up the screen. M.C. takes one look at it and makes a face. She puts the phone face down on the duvet.

“You are not going to answer it?” Jumin asks.

“No way. I’m here for you, not to reassure Zen’s paranoid delusions.”

Jumin sits, eyes wide, staring at M.C.. Zen, he knows, is handsome. He’s charming and charismatic. Women all over the world love him. That M.C. would pick Jumin over the actor astounds him.

Eventually, he finds it in himself to ask, “You don’t think that I might also be suffering from paranoia?”

M.C. again takes one of his hands in her own. It’s strange how that small gesture has become so normal between them. Generally, he does not like being touched by others. But with M.C., he is quickly beginning to crave the contact. 

“You’re afraid for legitimate reasons. Reasons that I’d like to try to help you work through, if you’ll let me. But Zen? Zen isn’t. He’s just being awful because he doesn’t like you.”

“I--thank you, M.C..”

“You don’t need to thank me, Jumin.” She shuffles down, pulling the duvet up to cover her. She looks up at him, expectant.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” he says. “I should try to get some work done.”

M.C. frowns. “Don’t give me that. You were just saying how exhausted you were. Work will still be there in the morning.”

“But--”

“Jumin. You _look_ tired. Lie down.” She laughs, looking at him with faux severity. “Don’t make me read you a bedtime story.”

This startles a laugh from him. 

M.C. smiles. “Unless you want me to read to you?”

Jumin shakes his head. “You are my guest. Should I not be the one to read to you?”

“Someday,” she says, turning on her side to face him. “I think that could be really nice. But not today.”

Thoughts war inside his head. It isn’t like him to be so hesitant, so timid. If this were a business deal, his father would have taken him aside and scolded him for letting his emotions run rampant. But this isn’t a business deal. And his heart refuses to slow into its normal rhythm. 

Taking a deep breath, Jumin lies down, still on top of the duvet, facing M.C.. 

She reaches out and brushes the hair off of his forehead. “Goodnight, Jumin.”

“Goodnight, M.C..”

Her eyes close and soon she is asleep.

In spite of himself and his anxiety, Jumin follows not long after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookit me go, changing up events~
> 
> Was I the only one super upset with Zen for the entirety of Jumin's route??? So glad I did his route first, because now it's hard for me to like him.


	5. Chapter 5

M.C. wakes to the smell of unfamiliar sheets. She nuzzles her face into the pillow, enjoying how soft the fabric is against her skin. 

It’s tempting to slip back into sleep. She’s warm, surrounded by a pleasant scent, in a bed much more comfortable than Rika’s has been. But the sound of quiet breathing beside her is enough to remind her where she is.

M.C. opens her eyes to see Jumin. Still asleep, Jumin is curled close, without actually touching her. She has no idea how he slept through the night on top of the duvet, without even a throw blanket to cover him, but she’s glad to see that he’s finally getting some much needed rest. He had looked _exhausted_ last night, the emotional turmoil having taken as much of a physical toll as a mental one.

His unruly hair has fallen into his face again. She wants to brush it back from his forehead, but doesn’t want to risk waking him. Instead, she picks up her phone and logs into the RFA application. She has a few more replies from potential guests waiting for her, which she quickly answers. She almost doesn’t want to log into the chat room after she had argued with Zen the night before--she’s still upset over the things that he said--but she figures she owes the group some kind of update, however misplaced their worry for her is.

Zen is, of course, in the chatroom. Jaehee is there, as well, and as much as she likes the only other woman in their group, she doesn’t like it when she and Zen are together. They always seem to play off of each other, egging the other on with their complaints about Jumin. The last thing she wants is to be tag-teamed by the two of them so early in the morning, but Jaehee has already welcomed her to the chat.

**Jaehee:** Good morning, M.C..

**Zen:** M.C.! Are you okay? Are you still at that jerk’s place?

**M.C.:** Hey, Jaehee. How is your morning going?

**Jaehee:** So much work;;

**Jaehee:** Is Mr. Han feeling better? 

**Jaehee:** Will he be coming to work today?

**M.C.:** He’s asleep right now, but I’m hoping he’ll feel well enough to go to work today.

**M.C.:** But, Jaehee, don’t be disappointed if he needs more time.

**Zen:** ASLEEP?? Don’t tell me you slept over?? He didn’t do anything weird, did he???? 

**Jaehee:** I see.

**M.C.:** I hope you aren’t too disappointed, Jaehee. You’ll have to hold down the fort just a little bit longer.

**Jaehee:** Thank you for trying, M.C.. I’ll do what I can here while Mr. Han focuses on getting better. ^^;;

**Zen:** Are you ignoring me? T_T

**M.C.:** You still haven’t apologized for the way you’ve been behaving. So until then--yes, Zen, I am ignoring you.

**Zen:** Why 

**Zen:** do I have to apologize when that trust fund kid is making Jaehee do all the work??

**Zen:** Just because he’s afraid about his stupid cat  >:(

**M.C.:** Don’t call Elizabeth stupid. 

**M.C.:** And you don’t have the entire story, Zen.

**M.C.:** I see that you are still letting your prejudices against Jumin get the better of you. I’m going to leave, Jaehee. I’ll update you if anything changes.

**Zen:** What?? 

**Zen:** M.C.! You aren’t being fair!

**Zen:** As a man, I know how Jumin thinks!

**Zen:** All men are wolves!

**Zen:** I’m worried sick about you being there all alone with him

**Zen:** Don’t leave

**M.C.:** Bye, Jaehee.

**Jaehee:** Good bye, M.C..

M.C.’s phone buzzes in her hand immediately after she exits the messenger app. She doesn’t have to look to see that it’s Zen. Instead of ignoring the call, she answers it, only to immediately hang up. Then, for the first time since she was lured into Rika’s apartment, she turns off her phone.

She sighs as it powers down. She knows that Jumin will eventually log into the chatroom. He’ll read all of the abhorrent assumptions and accusations that Zen has thrown at him. He’ll see the teasing from 707, the doubts from Yoosung, the steam blown off by Jaehee about her job. No matter how many times he’s told her and the rest of the group that such things don’t bother him, M.C. knows that it has to take its toll.

Would he be in this state if he had a better support system? If the RFA members took his breakdown seriously? If they had words of kindness to offer him instead of critique? No wonder Jumin has a difficult time opening up to people, if this is the response he gets.

M.C. looks down at Jumin. He’s awake, obsidian eyes focused on her through a stray lock of dark hair.

He really is beautiful.

M.C. smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“I--” A small smile tugs at his own lips. “Better, thank you.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

Jumin rolls onto his back and stretches. M.C. laughs at the popping of several of his joints. Jumin glances at her, looking something akin to shy.

A meow from across the room causes Jumin to freeze.

“You could let her out,” M.C. says. “With both of us here, I doubt she’s in any danger.”

He turns his face away. “Are you hungry? I can call the chef to make something for breakfast.”

M.C. shakes her head, disappointed that he’s not yet ready to deal with his fear over losing Elizabeth. She covers it with a smile. “I’m more interested in what _you_ can make.”

Jumin blinks, surprised. “I don’t have much practice in the kitchen, but...I can make strawberry pancakes?”

“That sounds great, Jumin. Give me a second and I’ll come in to help you.” M.C. shifts to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but Jumin surprises her by placing his hand on her arm.

“No. This is something I would like to do for you. To thank you, for all that you’ve done for me.”

Placing her hand over his, M.C. squeezes it and says, “I’d like that.”

Elizabeth meows again, insistent that her owner pay her attention. 

Jumin closes his eyes, steeling himself, and extricates his hand from under hers. He rises from the bed and strides, shoulders tense, across the room, disappearing into an alcove that M.C. assumes is the kitchen.

M.C. gets out of the bed, as well. It’s always been her habit to make her bed in the morning, so she straightens out Jumin’s sheets and rights the duvet. She smoothes out the wrinkles and plumps the pillows. 

Picking up her backpack, M.C. peeks around the corner into the kitchen to see Jumin organizing ingredients on one of the counters. He looks up at her, a bit of flour already dusted across one of his cheekbones. “I’m going to take a shower, if that’s alright?”

“Yes, certainly.” His eyes find the backpack slung across her shoulder. “You have a change of clothes, I assume? We can go shopping, if there is anything you need. I would be happy to provide it for you.”

Hefting the backpack higher up her shoulder, M.C. says, “I didn’t have anything with me when I first showed up at Rika’s apartment, so I’ve just been raiding her closet. It’s kind of strange that everything fits--I always picture Rika as being much taller than me.”

“She was about your height, if I recall.” Jumin looks M.C. up and down. She shivers at the heat she sees in his eyes. He blinks, however, and it is gone. “The offer still stands, if you would like to go shopping. I...want to spoil you, give you everything you need and more.”

M.C. smiles. “I know. But I don’t like you for what you can do for me. I like you for you.”

Jumin’s eyes go wide, just before he turns back to the mixing bowl in front of him. It could be the faint, rosy light of dawn streaming in through the windows, but there is a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. “Please, feel free to use the shower. I should be done here shortly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter update today, but you all know what comes next. I didn't want to try to squeeze it all into one chapter. 
> 
> Also, I was writing this as I was playing Jumin's route, but over the holidays I took a short break. For some reason, my game refuses to load correctly. I've tried one minute after my load time, twenty minutes after my load time, and early in the morning the next day, but it still says I've missed that entire day's worth of chats. So I'll probably have to start the route over. So, just a warning, just in case the next few chapters take longer to come out.


	6. Chapter 6

Breakfast is a pleasant affair. Sitting at a small table across from Jumin, with a stack of strawberry pancakes before her, enjoying quiet conversation, M.C. can almost imagine that it’s just a normal morning with a man she is beginning to have feelings for. She can imagine that Jumin’s father isn’t trying to push him into a marriage he clearly does not want. She can imagine that Elizabeth the 3rd isn’t lying, despondent, in her cage. She can imagine Jumin, emotionally happy and healthy, sharing a romantic morning with her as the sun rises over the city.

She shakes her head, shattering the illusion. Best to stay in the here and now, with the Jumin in front of her. The Jumin who keeps eyeing Elizabeth’s cage out of the corner of his eye, even as he tries to keep his attention solely on M.C..

“You should go to work today, if you’re feeling up to it,” M.C. says, when her plate is clear.

Jumin pushes a bit of pancake through a puddle of syrup on his plate. “I don’t think that is a good idea. I am still...anxious about her safety.”

“What if I stay with her? I don’t mind looking after her if it will give you peace of mind.”

“Thank you, M.C..” Jumin places his fork back onto the table, half of his plate left untouched. “I suppose I should--I should go. Elizabeth the 3rd with be safe, with you.”

He doesn’t look happy about his decision, even when M.C. tries to smile at him to reassure him.

At the sound of her name, Elizabeth cries.

She can almost see the war going on behind Jumin’s eyes at the sound, almost see him decide against going into work, to stay home with Elizabeth.

He doesn’t give in. Instead, he straightens, his resolve hardened, before pushing his chair back from the table. “I need to feed Elizabeth. Excuse me.” 

Jumin disappears into the kitchen. He returns with a crystal dish and a can of wet cat food.

M.C. whistles. “Very fancy.”

Jumin follows her gaze, smiling down at the dish. “I only want the best for those most precious to me.”

He gives M.C. a meaningful look from underneath the fringe of his hair. M.C. can’t help the blush that heats her face.

“I shouldn’t be gone too late, but if I cannot make it home before dinner time, Elizabeth’s food is in the cupboard,” Jumin says, crouching in front of the cage.

Elizabeth’s ears perk up, but she doesn’t move from the depressed ball she’s curled herself into.

Jumin opens the tin of food and still, Elizabeth doesn’t respond. Not until he opens the gate of her cage and calls her name. She meows, stretches her front paws out in front of her, then slowly makes her way to the entrance.

She doesn’t touch her food until Jumin places it on the floor with a frown. He reaches out to pet her, but she glares at him and goes back to her food dish.

Jumin’s expression only gets more and more shuttered. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and stands. “I should introduce you to the chief of security. No one should have permission to come to this floor, but should you have any trouble, I would like you to know who to call.”

He doesn’t wait for her to nod before he picks his cell phone up from the bedside table, unplugging it from where it has remained charging for the last day. He has a brief conversation with someone, then shoves the phone into the pocket of his pajama pants. “He should be here in a moment. Will you--will you have enough to keep you entertained while you are here? There is the television…”

“I brought my laptop with me. I just need access to wifi and I’ll be good to go.”

“I’m sure Assistant Kang can help you, if you have any difficulties.” He hesitates, ducking his head, allowing hair to fall down into his face. “You aren’t missing your own work, to be here? You joined the RFA so suddenly and you’ve been unable to leave Rika’s apartment. Is someone--is there anyone out there worrying for you?”

M.C. crosses over to Jumin, careful not to step on Elizabeth’s tail as she eats. She wants to hug him, but settles on placing her hand on his arm. “Thank you for being concerned.”

He looks down at her hand and then back up, into her eyes, his stare intense. 

“I text my mom every few days,” she continues. “And I work for a marketing team, writing copy. Which I can do remotely. If I didn’t have my laptop, _then_ I might be in trouble.”

Jumin opens his mouth to respond, but a knock on the door interrupts. “Come in,” he says, instead.

The door opens and the chief of security enters. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Han?”

Jumin gestures toward M.C.. “This is my guest, M.C.. She’ll be staying at the penthouse for today. If she needs anything, please--”

The chief of security’s eyes go very big. “Mr. Han--”

Jumin frowns. “Please do not inter--”

“No, Mr. Han. I think you cat--your cat just ran outside!”

Immediately, Jumin searches the floor. Beside her empty food dish, there is no trace of Elizabeth.

M.C. races to the front door, still standing open. “Are you sure? I don’t see her in the hallway.” 

The chief of security shakes his head. “Quite certain. A small white blur just dashed through the doorway. I was--Mr. Han? Are you okay?”

Turning back to look at Jumin, she can see that something is very definitely wrong. He looks as if he’s crumbling at the edges. His eyes have gone very far away, the fingers of one hand twisting in the cotton of his shirt just over his heart. His mouth moves, but no words escape.

He sways and the chief of security leaps into action, placing his arm around Jumin. He walks Jumin to where they had just dined, setting him down in one of the chairs. “Mr. Han, do you need a doctor?”

“E-Elizabeth…” he says. 

The chief of security turns to her, a frown pulling at his features. “I’ve never seen him like this. Should I call for an ambulance?”

“No,” M.C. says. “Go look for Elizabeth. I’ll take care of him.”

The chief of security nods. Just before he can shut the door behind him, M.C. calls out, “Oh, and I’m sure Mr. Han would appreciate your full discretion about this incident.”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

The door closes, leaving M.C. alone with Jumin.

“Jumin,” she says, “We’re going to find Elizabeth. Everything is going to be okay.”

His eyes turn toward her, but it’s the only response that lets M.C. know that he’s aware of her presence. 

“She can’t have gotten out of the building,” she continues. “Someone will see her, eventually.”

“Elizabeth--she...she ran away.”

M.C. sighs. He looks so lost. As if his whole world has just turned upside down. She crosses over to stand in between his knees. She expects him to flinch away from her when she brings a hand up to cup his cheek, but he only closes his eyes and slumps further.

“Listen, Jumin. Cats aren’t meant to be in cages. Elizabeth couldn’t have understood that you only put her there to keep her safe. She might be upset with you now, but she loves you. She’ll come back.”

Jumin shakes his head. “I...want to believe you.”

“You’re upset. Come on, you shouldn’t go to work today.” 

M.C. tugs at his arm until he stands. He moves woodenly, robotically, but from the emotion swirling in his black eyes, M.C. has no idea how anyone could ever accuse him of being such a thing. She leads him back to the bed, turns down the duvet, and encourages him to lay down.

M.C. rounds the bed and gets in on the other side, shuffling until she’s beside Jumin. “Come here,” she says, and pulls him into an embrace.

Jumin shudders at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. He buries his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder. His arms wind around her waist and he holds on, tight.

M.C. tangles her fingers in his hair, carding them through the soft raven strands.

They stay like that for a long, long time. Until, eventually, Jumin’s breath evens out and he falls into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jumin has no idea how to deal with grief, so he kind of just shut down. :c
> 
> Good thing M.C. is there to help him through it. c:
> 
> Also, thank you again to everyone who has given kudos or a comment. Comments mean the world to me and everyone in this fandom has been so nice. C:


	7. Chapter 7

Jumin blinks himself awake. He feels strange. Like he hasn’t really woken up, the world around him distant and dreamlike. 

There are arms around him. His face is pressed against the skin of another human being.

He feels as if he should panic. For a long moment, he doesn’t remember whose arms could be wrapped around him. He doesn’t remember how he ended up in bed, his limbs tangled with those of another person.

And then, memory comes crashing back, like waves upon a shore.

Elizabeth...is gone.

Not kidnapped by Sarah and Glam, as he’d tried to prevent. Not held for ransom, as he had feared.

She had left. 

Of her own free will. 

As soon as she had been given the chance.

The body held tight to him--M.C.’s body--shifts against him. “You awake?”

Her words are a whisper against his hair. He nuzzles his face against her neck, trying, impossibly, to get closer.

“How are you feeling?”

Jumin sighs. “Tired.”

It’s an understatement. He’s never felt so exhausted in his life.

Fingers stroke his hair. It feels different. Different from anything he’s experienced before. Is this what it feels like to be comforted? 

“Then go back to sleep,” she says.

He tries to pull away, but his limbs are stiff and heavy. How long has he been asleep? “I need to find Elizabeth the 3rd. I have to--”

“I called Jaehee and told her what happened. The whole company is on the lookout for Elizabeth. You don’t need to go anywhere right now.”

His eyes slip shut and Jumin returns to M.C.’s embrace. 

The whole company? He’ll have to offer a bonus to the employee who finds her. He’ll have to--

He’ll have to look each and every employee in the eye, knowing that they know about Elizabeth. That they know he’s a neglectful owner, that she’d run away from him because he couldn’t take care of her, that she must _hate_ him for putting her in the cage.

He’ll have to return Elizabeth the 3rd to V. 

It is the right course of action, even if the thought of it makes him feel ill. 

Ever attuned to his distress, M.C.’s resumes carding her fingers through his hair. 

His eyes feel heavy. He could so very easily fall asleep. Perhaps, by that time, Elizabeth will have returned to him.

His eyes snap open at the sound of a loud, arhythmic banging against the front door.

M.C. startles in his embrace. She pushes herself up and Jumin lets her, despite the urge to hold her to him. “Do you think it could be about Elizabeth?”

No one should be up on the penthouse floor, beyond the security team. But, knowing how important Elizabeth is, perhaps Jaehee had given different instructions.

Before he can protest, M.C. is up and out of the bed. She crosses the apartment and opens the door.

From where he is, Jumin cannot see who is at the door, but he can see M.C. take a half step back in surprise. 

“Um, hi,” she says. “Can I help you?”

There is a long moment of silence before an exaggerated laugh. Jumin’s blood runs cold at the sound of it. Sarah. “I’m sorry--I thought--but you _must_ be the maid.”

“What?” M.C. asks.

“I’m here to see my _fiance_. Please move aside.”

Sarah doesn’t wait. In enormously high heels, she’s taller than M.C.. She simply bulldozes her way inside, forcing M.C. backward lest she be run over.

“Now, Jumin, _wherever_ could you be?” Her eyes swing back and forth, examining the apartment with a gleam in her eye he has long been able to recognize for what it is. Greed. Her gaze locks on him and her eyes narrow before she forces herself to smile. “ _Still_ in bed?”

Jumin sits up. He’s painfully aware that while M.C. is dressed, he is still wearing the pajamas from the night before. Word of M.C. staying with him in his apartment alone could cause a scandal. But with rumors of an arranged marriage already circulating through the press, Jumin caught--undressed--with a woman other than his intended in his apartment? His reputation could be ruined.

He almost laughs.

Like father, like son.

“Sarah,” he says, using her name only for M.C.’s benefit. “What are you doing here?”

Sarah pouts. Her arms cross in front of her. “Is that _any_ way to treat your future wife?”

Jumin shakes his head. It’s a struggle not to pinch the bridge of his nose. He can already feel a headache threatening. “I must reiterate. You are not my fiance. I have no thoughts on marriage at this time. Please leave.”

“But Jumin,” Sarah says. Her voice, so unlike the quiet tones of M.C., grates on his nerves. “After I heard the _terrible_ news about your cat, I called in _every_ favor I had, looking for her. _Surely_ you’ll change your mind once I tell you the information my sources managed to gather. _Hm_?”

“You have information about Elizabeth the 3rd?” M.C. asks.

Sarah looks M.C. up and down. The immediate dismissal he sees in her eyes fills him with something hot, like boiling water sitting just beneath the surface of his skin.

“Jumin, I must _insist_ that you hire a new maid once we’re married. Good help is _neither_ seen _nor_ heard.”

M.C.’s hands go to her hips. Jumin can’t help but notice how beautiful she is, even when angry. He wants to take her into his arms and kiss her, claiming her as his in front of the delusional woman his father wants him to marry.

“Listen,” M.C. says. “I’m not Jumin’s maid. I’m just his friend.”

Sarah smiles wide and predatory. “A _friend_? Don’t think I don’t know _how_ this looks? The remains of breakfast for _two_? Jumin not dressed for _company_?”

Sarah turns her attention back to Jumin. “I _know_ how the world works. It’ll be different once we’re married. You’ll only have _me_ to look at. I can _certainly_ keep you more than entertained.”

Her words, combined with the sultry look she attempts to give him, make Jumin shudder. “Please do not make such presumptions about my guest. Or the future you imagine we will have together.”

Sarah pouts again, but before she can repeat any more nonsense, M.C. asks, “Do you have the information about Elizabeth or not?”

“Oh, yes. I know where she is.”

Sarah pauses, her elegantly sculpted brows lifted expectantly, as if awaiting some sort of applause. 

M.C. looks to be on the verge of rolling her eyes. It’s an expression he knows well from watching Jaehee. “Well, where is she? Jumin has been worried sick.”

Jumin rises to his feet, the tile cold after abandoning the warmth of his bed. “If you know where she is, please return her to me. At once.”

Frowning, Sarah waggles her finger at him. “Don’t be _rude_ , Jumin. I don’t have you _precious_ cat with me. We will have to go to her. _Together_.”

“That’s ridiculous.” M.C. says, at the same time that Jumin says, “No.”

“You could be charged as an accessory to theft, if you are keeping Jumin’s cat hostage,” M.C. continues.

He has no idea if the law works that way, but the panic that flickers through Sarah’s eyes is certainly satisfying. 

“The person who has Lizzy. They sent me a picture. Will that suffice until I can arrange for her return?”

Jumin crosses over to Sarah, holding his hand out for the photo. Sarah frowns at him, clearly displeased, and digs into the handbag hanging from her shoulder. 

Jumin only has to take one look at the photo to know the truth. Fluffy white fur. Blue eyes.

Not Elizabeth.

“This is not my cat,” he says, handing the photo back to her.

“ _What_?” Sarah very nearly shrieks. “Do you know how _long_ I searched for a cat that looked just like yours?”

“So you admit that you were trying to scam Jumin? You knew that wasn’t Elizabeth?”

Sarah takes a step back, wobbling a little on too-high heels. “No, of _course_ not! I must have been tricked! Jumin, you _must_ believe me. I would _never_ do anything to harm our future relationship.”

Jumin turns away from her. He walks toward the front door and opens it, gesturing for Sarah to take her leave. “We have no future relationship. Do not doubt that I will go to my father about this. Whatever wedding plans you may have will be canceled, as soon as he hears about your attempt to deceive me.” 

“How _dare_ you, Jumin Han. Wait until your father hears from me. I’m going to tell him about this--this _hussie_.” Sarah glares at M.C.. “Just you wait, you scheming bitch.”

The boiling under his skin turns to steam. Everything goes white. Is this rage?

Before he can let his emotions get the better of him and do something drastic, M.C. does something that surprises him. 

She smiles.

“I think you should go now, Ms. Sarah. Jumin hasn’t been feeling well after the loss of his cat. He needs his rest.”

Sarah stares, her mouth gaping. After a long moment, she huffs, pulls her handbag higher up her shoulder, and stalks passed Jumin.

He closes the door behind her with a definitive click. He sighs, leans his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He’s exhausted, completely drained from the ordeal. He stays like that until a warm hand settles on his back.

“Now, that was unpleasant,” M.C. says.

Jumin laughs, a single, quiet huff of laughter.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’ve never felt so many emotions, in such a short length of time.” He turns, taking her hand in his. “But with you--with a single word, or touch, you make everything quiet. Peaceful.”

Bringing her hand up to his lips, he places a kiss upon her knuckles. When she doesn’t pull away, he places another one in the center of her palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Also, I know they didn't have their Big Kiss, like in the game, but I thought the whole 'let me quote a soap opera and then kiss M.C. to prove a point' wasn't very romantic. Don't worry, they'll get to the mushy stuff. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't mean to bash on Zen. By the end of this, I'm hoping to have them reconcile. Because I thought it was strange that they reconciled in Zen's route, but in Jumin's route Zen's jealousy and dislike is ramped up without any closure. So, if I'm a little mean to him now, it's for his own good. :P

His lips are warm against her skin. Nothing like the robot the others have made him out to be. In fact, the entire time she’s been with Jumin, she’s seen nothing to suggest there is anything inhuman about him. When M.C. looks into his dark eyes, she sees a myriad of emotions. Pain, anguish, loneliness. Longing. 

“It’s been kind of a rough day,” M.C. says.

A smile tugs at Jumin’s lips. “That is an understatement.”

M.C. tangles their fingers together. Jumin’s eyes catch on the way they lace together, perfect, like pieces of a puzzle.

“You’re right. It’s been a really rough day. How are you holding up?”

Eyes still on their joined hands, Jumin says, “I--It’s selfish. I know I should send you home, back to Rika’s apartment. But I can’t help but want you here, with me.”

“You’re allowed to want things, Jumin.”

“I shouldn’t--”

“I can see that you’re not okay. You’re still struggling. So, if you want me to stay with you for another night, all you have to do is ask.”

“Ask?” He questions it, as if it’s a foreign concept to him. Perhaps to a man used to getting what he wants, it is.

M.C. smiles. “I might even say ‘yes.’”

His eyes lift to meet hers. “M.C., would you--? Please. Stay?”

“I’ll stay, Jumin.”

He releases a long breath, as if he’d been steeling himself for rejection. M.C. reaches up and brushes some of his unruly hair out of his face.

“Why don’t we have a quiet night in? It’s almost time for dinner.”

A dusty pink flush spreads over Jumin’s cheeks. “I seem to have slept most of the day away.”

“It’s okay, Jumin. Sometimes when we’re stressed, all we want to do is sleep.”

Jumin shakes his head. “I am...unused to handling stress in this way.”

M.C. squeezes his hand in hers. “What do you normally do?”

“Wine,” he says. By the sheepish smile he gives her, he’s aware of the double meaning that can be taken from the word.

“We can have wine with dinner?” M.C. suggests. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

Jumin frowns. “We missed lunch. I apologize. Unless you would like more strawberry pancakes, you will need to excuse me for a moment, so that I may call the chef.”

“That sounds excellent.” M.C. pulls her cell phone from her pocket and quickly checks her notifications. “While you do that, I should catch up on RFA business.”

Jumin excuses himself to the balcony to use his phone. M.C. sits herself cross-legged on the sofa and opens the RFA application.

There are a few more emails from potential guests, asking about party particulars--and in a few strange instances, asking for personal advice. M.C. answers the cat related guests with a certain fondness. Not only does she love cats, but she hopes that Jumin will enjoy the presence of fellow cat-lovers at the RFA party. 

Yoosung and Jaehee are in the chatroom. M.C. clicks into it and quickly reads through past messages to get caught up on events.

More of Zen whining about M.C. being ‘imprisoned’ at Jumin’s penthouse. More accusations that Jumin must doing something ‘weird’ to her. More misguided worry for her ruining his concentration while he’s at rehearsal. Worry which doesn’t seem to be doing too much damage to him at work, what with the new role he’s been offered and a modeling contract being drawn up. 

M.C. tries not to let his antics get to her. There are far too many other things going on. Much more important things than to getting caught up in the personal pity party of one Hyun “Zen” Ryu.

Such as Yoosung being invited to 707’s house. She laughs at his excitement over Honey Buddha Chips, but she can’t help but feel that Seven isn’t offering them out of the kindness of his heart. As sweet and funny as he’s been in the chat room, M.C. has noticed his fondness for tricking the younger man. She only hopes that Seven doesn’t plan on pranking the poor guy, not after Yoosung changed his profile banner to an image of exploding fireworks and his profile picture to a bag of chips.

**Jaehee:** Oh, M.C. is here.

**Yoosung:** But she’s not saying anything???

M.C. looks up. Jumin is still on the balcony, his phone pressed to his ear and a frown pulling at his mouth. He looks agitated, unhappy with what the other person is saying. A work-related call, perhaps?

**M.C.:** I’m here. What’s up?

**Yoosung:** Honey Buddha Chips! Honey Buddha Chips!

**Yoosung:** But first I have to get through all of my classes T_T

**Yoosung:** This lab is taking FOREVER

**M.C.:** You must be very excited.

**M.C.:** Don’t make yourself sick, once you get your hands on them.

**M.C.:** I hear the sugar content is through the roof.

**Jaehee:** M.C. is right. You should still eat something healthy, before filling up on chips.

**Yoosung:** T_T

**Yoosung:** I might not be able to help it.

**Yoosung:** I’m just so excited to finally have some Honey Buddha Chips! :D

M.C. smiles. She likes Yoosung. He’s young and a little immature, very quick to fall for Seven’s jokes, but he’s kind.

She goes to type out a reply when Zen’s name appears in the messenger.

**Zen:** M.C.. Hey…

M.C. sighs. So much for a hasty escape.

**M.C.:** Hey.

**Jaehee:** Zen, hello. Have you eaten?

**Zen:** I haven’t been hungry.

**Zen:** I’m just so worried about M.C..

**M.C.:** Why?

**Jaehee:** Because she is still at Mr. Han’s apartment?

**Zen:** Yes!!!

**Zen:** I just can’t trust that guy.

**Zen:** He might act like a robot, but he’s a guy!

**Zen:** And guys only want one thing!

**Jaehee:** I admit that Mr. Han has not been himself. But I would not say that he’s dangerous;;

**Zen:** Jaehee, you too? You’re taking his side?;;

**Zen:** If he doesn’t let her go soon, I’m going to have to go over there

**Zen:** and give him a piece of my mind!

**M.C.:** Zen, 1) do not come to this apartment. I will not let you in

**Jaehee:** :o

**M.C.:** 2) Jumin isn’t keeping me here against my will

**M.C.:** 3) Jumin has been a complete gentleman.

**M.C:** Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself.

**M.C:** and 4) I can’t believe you would accuse Jumin of trying to hurt me. 

**M.C.:** If Rika or V thought Jumin was that kind of person, do you think he would have let him join the RFA?

**Zen:** well, no, but…

**M.C.:** I appreciate your concern, but it’s based on unfounded conjecture colored by your own personal bias. I don’t need rescuing. 

**M.C.:** what i need is for you to show some solidarity while Jumin is having a hard time

**M.C.:** He might not be in the best space to suggest party guests right now, but YOU can

**Jaehee:** M.C..

**M.C.:** Yeah?

**Jaehee:** What if I stopped by, just for a moment? I could bring you a change of clothes and anything else you might need, if you’re going to be spending the night at Mr. Han’s apartment again tonight.

**Zen:** that’s a good idea. I won’t worry so much if Jaehee gets to see you.

**Zen:** i can’t help but worry…

The glass door of the balcony slides open. Jumin steps into the apartment, his phone clutched in his hand.

**M.C.:** Jaehee, a change of clothes would be very much appreciated.

**M.C.:** thank you.

**M.C.:** gotta go now. Bye!

She closes down the application. She has to shake the tension out of her shoulders. When Jumin crosses the apartment, he hesitates before putting his hand on her arm. 

“All is well?”

M.C. does her best to smile. “Maybe don’t go into the chatroom for a while.”

“I have long come to terms with Zen’s dislike for me.”

A flare of annoyance runs through her. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have to. Unless you kicked his puppy, he doesn’t have any right to act the way he does toward you.”

Jumin laughs. She likes his laugh. It always sounds as if she’s startled it out of him. “Zen does not have a puppy.”

Her smile comes easier. “See? Point proven.”

“The chef is on his way. I had him prepare something simple, so you do not have to wait long to eat.”

Though he doesn’t phrase it as a question, M.C. senses his uncertainty. “That’ll be perfect, Jumin. Thank you.”

His hand goes to his wrist, but stops when his fingers find bare skin. Has he always played with his cufflinks when nervous, she wonders, or is it a new development?

“Oh, before I forget. Jaehee says she’ll be coming by with a change of clothes for me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“A part of me wants to keep you here, all to myself.” Jumin lowers his eyes. In the absence of cufflinks, his fingers settle for circling his wrist, his thumb rubbing back and forth against his skin. “I know that it isn’t right. That it isn’t _rational_.”

He pauses, gathering his thoughts.

“I know that I could not make you happy, if I were to cage you. Even if the cage were not literal, like Elizabeth the 3rd’s. You would run, as she did, at the first opportunity.” He raises his eyes to meet M.C.’s once more. “I will allow Assistant Kang to visit, if that is what you wish.”

M.C. closes the distance between them. Jumin watches her, wary. Careful, as if trying not to spook an animal, M.C. threads her arms around his waist. “I’m proud of you for realizing all of that.”

She looks up, taking in his expression. His mouth is slightly open as he stares at her with something like awe. He closes it, shutting his eyes briefly, getting himself back under control. But not before his arms circle her. He holds her tight, for just a moment, before he lets go. Clearing his throat, he takes a step back.

“I rarely watch the television,” he says. “But we could watch something, as we wait for the chef?”

M.C. smiles. “I’m sure we can find a movie or something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotta dialogue/chat this chapter--sorry! Thanks again to everyone who is reading and has taken the time to send me a comment. Ya'll are lovely!


	9. Chapter 9

It is difficult for Jumin to focus on the movie.

There is something about a baby wearing striped pajamas and a maze and a man with questionable fashion sense with a penchant for singing and dancing. 

He finds himself watching M.C.. She’s paying rapt attention to the movie. By the way her mouth moves along with some of the songs, it’s clear that she’s seen the movie at least once before. She smiles and laughs. Between them, their hands are linked. Their fingers are laced together, the fit more perfect than he could ever imagine. At times, M.C. squeezes his hand in hers. 

He squeezes back.

His heart pounds in his chest. Is it normal for such simple contact to make someone this nervous?

He is, admittedly, unused to such contact. 

He is used unwanted attention from his father’s girlfriends. He has grown accustomed to casual touches from women hoping to flirt with him, hoping to get something from him. He is used to sealing business deals with a brief shake of hands.

So far, M.C.’s attention is not unwanted. He _craves_ it. He wishes for her to always be looking at him, touching him, talking to him. As long as she has been in Jumin’s presence, she has shown no interest in any of the luxuries his money can provide for her. And she takes his hand in hers and holds on to it, sealing nothing but her name across his knuckles as her thumb brushes across his skin.

A knock on the door signals the arrival of the chef. Hoping to impress M.C., to show her that he is not the useless trust fund kid that the others have made him out to be, he follows the chef into the kitchen. 

If the chef notes any difference from Jumin’s usual routine--the fact that he is still in his pajamas from the night before, that there is a woman in his apartment, that Jumin is not waiting to be served, but standing awkwardly in the kitchen, trying to keep out of the chef’s way while uncertain how to help--he doesn’t say anything. He sniffs and points Jumin toward the sink, directing him to wash his hands before he handles any of the food.

“I have prepared something simple, as you asked. Skillet gnocchi with shrimp and asparagus. To be served with a baby arugula salad, vinaigrette dressing, and a bottle of pinot grigio.”

The chef uncovers each dish, looking to Jumin for his approval for each. Jumin nods. “This will be perfect, thank you.”

The chef’s eyes narrow at Jumin. “Of course it is perfect.”

The corner of Jumin’s lips lift in amusement. “Of course. I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”

The chef sniffs again. Jumin retrieves china plates from the cabinet for the much shorter man, who grunts his thanks. Jumin waits as the chef plates first the gnocchi and then the salad, before taking them out to the table.

M.C., distracted from the film, gets up from the sofa. Her hands are in the pockets of her jeans, her feet bare against the tile floor.

He’s never seen a woman more beautiful.

“What can I do to help?” she asks.

He pulls sets the dishes down onto the table, then pulls out one of the chairs. “You are my guest, M.C.. Let me serve you.”

She smiles and sits. “It looks amazing.”

“One moment. I’ll return with silverware and glasses for wine. I hope pinot grigio is to your taste?”

“I’m sure it will be lovely.”

Jumin nods and returns to the kitchen. The chef barely acknowledges Jumin as he organizes empty platters on his cart. He waves Jumin toward the counter, where a bottle of wine is resting in a bucket of ice. Jumin nods his thanks. He brings out the silverware and glasses first, then returns to the table with the bottle of wine.

M.C. smiles and gets up from her chair to open the front door for the chef and his cart. Jumin ignores the irrational part of him that wants to scold her for putting herself in danger. There are security guards and CCTV cameras throughout the building. His penthouse is the safest place she could be, open door or not.

She is not like Elizabeth, he tells himself.

She won’t run from him.

He won’t give her cause to. 

This, he silently promises her, as he pours a measure of wine into her crystal glass. _You will never have occasion to fear me, M.C.. I want you to always_ choose _to be at my side._

M.C. sits down just as there is a tentative knock at the front door. She laughs and pushes herself up again, even as Jumin reaches out to catch her wrist.

“I don’t mind,” she says, smiling. “Really. It’s probably Jaehee.”

Jumin nods. He takes a sip of wine, hoping to calm his nerves.

It is one thing for M.C. to see him in this disheveled state. It’s quite another for his assistant to be witness to it, as well.

He sits up, back straight. He pushes unwashed hair away from his face. He tries to school his expression into something cool and detached--the mask he had learned to don very early in his life, let alone his career.

As the heir to his father’s company, others might say that there is very little difference between the two.

Jaehee is indeed on the other side of the door when M.C. opens it. She has a plastic bag hanging from her arm, her ever-present clipboard held close to her chest.

“Jaehee, hi,” M.C. says. She swings the door open wide, to allow the other woman entrance. “It’s good to see you. We’re just having dinner.”

“Oh,” Jaehee says. She pushes her glasses up her nose. “I can come back.”

“No, no. You came all this way. Why don’t you join us?” M.C. looks at him, the question clear on her face. 

Jaehee shakes her head frantically. “Oh, no. I couldn’t disturb your evening with--”

“Assistant Kang,” he says, interrupting her. 

She jumps to attention. “Yes, Mr. Han?”

“Come in. Please.”

Jaehee steps over the threshold, her movements wooden. She presents the plastic bag to M.C. who takes it and sets it on the sofa, without looking at the contents within. 

“I don’t think the chef prepared enough food for three people, but we should have enough wine. Jumin, do you have another glass for Jaehee?”

Jumin sets his own glass down and pushes his chair back from the table. Jaehee, eyes wide, continues to shake her head. 

“No, thank you, Mr. Han. I have a lot of work to get done, so I shouldn’t drink.”

Jumin sits. He gestures toward the sofa, inviting his assistant to sit. M.C. returns to her seat, but angles it slightly. 

“You don’t mind if we eat, do you?” M.C. asks.

“No, no. Go ahead.”

Jumin pours himself another glass of wine. M.C. has barely had time to touch her own glass, but he tops it off, just slightly. M.C. smiles her thanks.

It’s quiet for a long moment, while M.C. eats and Jumin drinks his wine. Jaehee takes turns toying with her phone and pretending to read through the papers on her clipboard. 

He knows the reason for his assistant’s visit. The others mistrust him. M.C. has been alone with him, in his penthouse, for two days. They must have sent Jaehee to check in on her, to make sure that Jumin has not hurt her.

A cold rush of _something_ washes through him, at the thought. He doesn’t care what the others think about him. He doesn’t.

But if he truly doesn’t care, why is feeling so...upset?

He should go. He should give them some space. He should let them talk privately, let M.C. convince Jaehee that he has not let his possessiveness, his obsessiveness, get the best of him.

His chair scrapes against the tile as he pushes himself away from the table. After two glasses of wine, with a nearly empty stomach, he wavers a little as he stands. “Excuse me. I’m going to go take a shower. Assistant Kang.”

Her eyes dart to meet him. 

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Ignoring both of their eyes, Jumin collects a change of clothes--another pair of pajama bottoms and an undershirt--and retreats to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor sad, awkward, anxious Jumin. :c


	10. Chapter 10

M.C. watches Jumin until the door to the bathroom clicks shut behind him. A long moment passes before the shower begins to spray.

“How..are things?” Jaehee asks. “Do you think he’ll be able to return to work soon?”

M.C. frowns. “Honestly? I don’t know. He slept for a few hours after Elizabeth ran away. Then Sarah came and--”

“Sarah came? Here? While you were here?”

M.C. laughs. “Yeah. It was pretty awkward. She’s a really terrible person. Can you believe she tried to pass off another cat as Elizabeth?”

“I’m more concerned about the scandal,” Jaehee says. She pulls a pen out of her blazer pocket and makes a note on her clipboard. “The media is already having a circus. Any more rumors might seriously hurt the company.”

“Thanks, Jaehee. I’m glad Jumin has someone who can think about these things.”

Jaehee’s eyes go briefly wide before she covers her surprise. “There’s no need to thank me, M.C.. I’m only doing my job.”

M.C. smiles. “You say that, but I think you are a good person for going above and beyond what can realistically be expected from an assistant. Once Jumin feels better, I’m sure he’ll appreciate your efforts.”

A faint flush of color spreads over Jaehee’s cheeks. “I--thank you. For saying so.”

Taking one last bite of the gnocchi, M.C. stands. “I should put this away for later. Jumin hardly touched his food.” 

Jaehee stands, as well. “I should go. I just wanted to bring you new clothes and...see how you are doing. When I asked you to visit Mr. Han, I did not think you would be staying with him for so long.”

“Don’t worry, Jaehee. You know Jumin. You’ve been his assistant for two years. He might not be the greatest boss, but don’t let Zen convince you that Jumin is some kind of villain. He’s emotional, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, but he’s not hurting me. And he’s certainly not keeping me here by force.”

Jaehee glances down at her clipboard, before hugging it to her chest. “I will relay that to the others.”

M.C. walks Jaehee to the door. She smiles at the other woman as Jaehee steps into the hall. “Thank you. Take care of yourself, okay? Those energy drinks aren’t good for you.”

Jaehee laughs. “Yes, okay. I’ll try to stick to coffee.”

A few minutes after M.C. shuts the door and puts away the remnants of Jumin’s dinner, Jumin emerges from the bathroom. He’s wearing pinstriped pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt, sticking to his skin in places where he hasn’t dried completely. His hair is damp, combed back from his forehead. He looks everywhere but her. “I apologize. If I ruined dinner.”

“You didn’t.”

He frowns, doubtful.

“Did something happen?” M.C. asks. “You looked pretty upset before you left. I was worried.”

“No-- I--” His hand goes to circle his wrist again. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

M.C. crosses over to him. Like before, she threads her arms around his waist and pulls him into an embrace. “You can tell me, if something is bothering you.”

He returns the embrace with a quiet sigh. “I hate feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m drowning.”

M.C. pulls back, just enough to see his face. “You’re not drowning, Jumin.”

“Then why--why is it so difficult to breathe?”

Smiling sadly, M.C. reaches up to cup his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes at the contact and leans into her palm. “The weight of emotion can be a heavy thing. But it can also lift you up, make you feel weightless, like you could fly for all the love and joy and happiness inside you.”

Doubt swims in his obsidian eyes when he opens them.

“Have you really never felt that?” she asks.

Her heart breaks when he shakes his head. 

“Not with another person. I thought, long ago, that there was someone special to me. But she fell in love with another. Since then, the only joy I’ve felt has been with Elizabeth.” A faint blush rises in Jumin’s cheeks. “I know that she’s a cat, but Elizabeth--I thought she understood me. I--I convinced myself that she was all I needed. But now she’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Jumin.” Her thumb sweeps across the swell of his cheekbone. “We’ll find her.”

His hand covers hers. He turns his head and gives her palm the barest brush of his lips. It sends a rush of electricity down her spine. She can feel it all the way down to her toes.

“Perhaps,” he says. He shakes his head, returning her hand to her side. “I must have had too much wine, to go on like this.”

M.C. lets him take a step back, pulling out of the embrace. “I’m still glad that you told me.”

Taking in the dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes and the way his shoulders slump, crushed under the weight of his own emotions, M.C. says, “Why don’t we go to bed early tonight?”

Jumin flushes, but he lets her pull him to the bed without complaint.

 

M.C. wakes to the buzzing of her phone against the bedside table. She tries to sit up, but Jumin’s arm is wrapped around her waist. When she shifts, his arm tightens around her, pulling her closer.

The buzzing stops. M.C. lays down, closes her eyes with a tired sigh.

A minute later, her phone buzzes again.

Jumin groans. He looks up, eyes bleary with sleep. “M.C.?”

“It’s just my phone. I should probably answer it.”

With another groan, Jumin rolls onto his back.

M.C. reaches for her phone. Yoosung’s picture stares up at her. She swipes at the screen to answer the call before her phone can stop buzzing. “Yoosung? What time is it?”

“M.C.! Finally! It’s, uh, somewhere around three? Sorry to wake you.”

“Are you with Seven? What’s going on?”

“I, uh, am with Seven. We’re up in the mountains, but that’s all I can tell you.”

M.C. frowns. “Is everything alright?”

“I’ve been trying to call Jumin, but he’s not answering his phone. In the chat, Jaehee said you’re still with him?”

M.C. glances at Jumin. His eyes are closed, but he opens them when he senses her looking. “Yeah, I’m still with Jumin. Why?”

“Okay, well, Seven won’t let me give any details, but tell Jumin we found his cat!”

M.C.’s hand grasps onto Jumin’s wrist. “What? You found Elizabeth?”

Jumin sits up. “Elizabeth?”

“Yeah,” Yoosung says. “She’s on my lap. We rescued her, but she doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear. Almost like someone has been taking care of her.”

“That’s amazing, Yoosung.” M.C. smiles at Jumin. “I’m so glad she’s alright.”

Jumin holds out his hand. “May I?”

“Hold on, Yoosung. I’m handing the phone to Jumin.”

Jumin takes the phone from M.C.. He pauses, looking into her eyes, before bringing it to his ear. “Yoosung.”

M.C. can hear Yoosung’s voice through the receiver, but she can’t make out any words.

“Yoosung,” Jumin says again, interupting the younger man before he can finish speaking. “Please take Elizabeth home with you.”

Yoosung squawks in protest.

M.C. sits up. She squeezes Jumin’s wrist to catch his attention. Stubbornly, he refuses to meet her gaze.

“I know what I’m asking, Yoosung. Please. Take care of Elizabeth the 3rd until the party.”

He waits for Yoosung to ask the myriad of questions M.C. wishes she could voice.

“It’s for Elizabeth’s own good.”

Another moment passes. Jumin closes his eyes in what looks like pain. “Yoosung. _Please_.”

Yoosung’s voice is quieter, the tone almost subdued.

“Thank you,” Jumin says. “Drive safe.”

Jumin ends the call, but he doesn’t return her phone right away. He holds onto it, like a lifeline.

“Jumin,” she tries. “They found Elizabeth. Why don’t you want her back? Why make her stay with Yoosung until the party?”

Without looking at her, Jumin lays down. He rolls onto his side, putting his back to her.

“Because,” he says, just as she’s about to press him for an answer, “after the party, I’m going to give Elizabeth the 3rd to V.”


	11. Chapter 11

Neither of them get much sleep after that. M.C. tries to get Jumin to tell her _why_ he wants to give Elizabeth the 3rd to V, but Jumin remains silent.

Eventually, M.C. drifts off, but it’s an uneasy sleep, disturbed every time Jumin shifts beside her. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t even brush against her. With his back turned to her, M.C. has no idea whether he’s found any sleep of his own, but when the sun begins to shine through the windows, and they both give up on any further rest, the bruise-like purple beneath his eyes tells her that it’s unlikely.

The morning is spent in awkward silence. M.C. takes the plastic bag Jaehee had brought for her into the bathroom. She stands under the spray of the shower for a long time, wondering what had happened in Jumin’s mind to make him decide to give away his cat--the only thing, by his own admission, that has ever brought him joy. 

She knows him well enough by now to know it wasn’t a decision made without thought. Elizabeth had only run away the morning before. How long had it taken him to come to the conclusion that Elizabeth the 3rd would be better off with anyone else?

The clothing Jaehee picked for her is new. Tags dangle from each article as she pulls it from the shopping bag. There is a tiered navy skirt, a white top, a soft grey cardigan, and, of course, underwear. M.C. checks each one, but the prices have been ripped away. She dresses, examines herself in the mirror, and exits the bathroom.

Jumin is dressed, not in his pajamas, but in a three-piece suit. His hair is still unruly and the circles beneath his eyes are stark against his skin--pale, as if he’s been recently ill. He turns to her and straightens his shoulders, hiding any signs of weakness from her. 

“Jumin?”

“I have decided,” he says, fingers toying with the silver cufflink at his wrist, “to go into work today.”

M.C. raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“I made an appointment to speak with my father today. About Sarah.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

Jumin frowns. “That I will not marry that woman. If he wants me to marry for the sake of the company...I will review resumes of potential candidates.”

M.C.’s heart drops into her stomach. He had expressed having a certain regard for her and she had hoped--she never thought he would jump into another arranged marriage.

“Oh,” M.C. says. It’s all that she can manage.

“I...have also kept you here for far too long, M.C..” His eyes move to examine something over her shoulder. “You should return to Rika’s apartment.”

She swallows around the lump that has formed in her throat. “Okay. Is it safe?”

“I can have bodyguards accompany you to the place where you were first picked up. They cannot follow you to the apartment, but I have asked 707 to watch over you via CCTV.”

She hadn’t expected to be parted from him in this way, with Jumin clearly still struggling with his emotions. Pushing them down, burying them as he used to--it’s as if he’s taken one step forward and then backpedaled twice that distance. But his gaze, even focused away from her, is resolute.

M.C. shakes her head. She doesn’t have any words, so she crosses the apartment to retrieve her backpack. She shoves the plastic bag, filled with her dirty clothes, into the main compartment. She zips it. She picks it up, throwing it over one shoulder. She slips into her flats.

“Goodbye, Jumin. I hope--I hope you feel better, truly. And I hope you realize what a mistake you’re making giving Elizabeth to V.”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer. She crosses the room, opens the door, and gives him one last smile. A smile which he doesn’t return. “See you at the party.”

M.C. ignores the presence of the security guard who follows her to the elevator. She requests the lobby floor and the burly man in the elevator presses the button for her. When another security guard tries to follow her out onto the street, she smiles and says, “It’s okay. I’m just going to take a cab. You don’t have to follow me.”

The man frowns. “Mr. Han said to--”

“I know,” M.C. interrupts. “But I’ll be fine. Really.”

M.C. steps into the fresh air. The sun is warm on her face. A breeze tugs at her cardigan. She closes her eyes and tries to convince herself it is because she enjoys being outside after being cooped up for so long in various apartments, not because her eyes have started to burn.

She can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

And Jumin, it seems, would rather repress everything he’s feeling than let her help him.

 

She walks for a long time. Cars whiz by on busy city streets. Strangers pass her by, wrapped up in their own lives.

Her phone buzzes in the pocket of her cardigan. When she pulls it out, she half expects it to be Jumin, asking her to come back. 

It isn’t. 

“Hello?”

“M.C.!” Seven says. “I’ve been watching you on CCTV. You’re not lost, are you?”

Even though his words are light, teasing, there is a certain weight to them that puts her on alert. “Did something happen? With you and Yoosung?”

He’s silent, for a long moment. When he speaks, his tone--for once--is serious. “I should be asking you. I thought you and Jumin were getting along. Why did he send you away?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. All of this is so new to him. It must be overwhelming. And I think he’s...scared.”

“So he’s pushing you away?” Seven makes a frustrated noise. He says something under his breath, something that sounds a lot like, ‘It’s not supposed to be this way.’

M.C. has to agree with him. It feels _wrong_ to be leaving Jumin like this. “It’s easier to push people away, I think. Not better, but easier.”

“It’s just dumb, is what it is.”

M.C. laughs. “Well, if there is anything God Seven can do for him, I’d really appreciate it.”

Seven laughs, too. It’s good to hear a little bit of humor from him, even if it’s heavy with some emotion she can’t put a name to. Loss? Grief? “God Seven Zero Seven, defender of Love and Justice!”

“That’s Sailor Moon, Seven. Though, you would look _lovely_ in a sailor suit.”

“Long blonde pigtails and a mini skirt? I think I’ve decided on my next cosplay.”

They’re both silent for a long moment. 

M.C. sighs. “I should probably get back to Rika’s apartment.”

Seven doesn’t reply.

“Did something really happen, Seven? Is everything okay? You aren’t your usual self.”

“I--No. I’ll be fine, M.C.. I just wish you were still with Jumin. This isn’t the ending that I wanted.”

If she could pull him into a hug, she would. He sounds so dejected, mournful almost. “I know what you mean, Seven. Let’s cross our fingers that everything turns out fine. I’ll see you at the party?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“Seven?”

“Oh. Yes. I’ll--see you at the party, M.C..”

He says his goodbyes with such finality that M.C. can’t help but worry. What had happened up in those mountains? Why is 707 so full of sorrow? And why won’t he let Yoosung talk about it?

After she hangs up with Seven, M.C. calls for a cab to bring her to the park where Driver Kim had picked her up.

She’ll throw herself into preparing for the party, into making it one hell of a success.

As much as it hurts, she’ll have to put thoughts of Jumin aside. And if Jumin talks to his father, and his father still wants him to marry a corporate heir? Well, she’ll just have to hope he learns how to deal with his emotions on his own, for the sake of his new wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? What's this?? A Good Ending canon divergence?!?!
> 
> Sorry, bit things are gonna get a little more dramatic. Or, perhaps, I am not sorry at all. >:}
> 
> Also, I promise promise promise that this fic will have a happy ending! Stay tuned~


	12. Chapter 12

Jumin waits for Driver Kim with a heavy feeling in his stomach and a headache lurking just behind his eyes. He hadn’t slept. He’d spent the entire night with thoughts whirling around in his head. Thoughts about Elizabeth. Thoughts about Rika. Thoughts about M.C.. Thoughts about his father and Glam and Sarah. He’d tossed and turned, adrift on the choppy sea of his thoughts, until the pre-dawn light had pulled both he and M.C. from his bed.

He’d sent her away.

He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to acknowledge the ache he feels at her absence. Knowing that she isn’t waiting for him in his penthouse...it shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t feel like the loss he’d felt after Rika’s death. 

M.C. is still alive. She hadn’t left him like Rika had.

Without an explanation.

Without a goodbye.

Without even a body to mourn at the funeral.

No, he’d sent M.C. away. 

He can still see the smile she had given him before she’d left. It hadn’t been a happy smile. Even _he_ could see that it was forced.

She’d told him that she would see him at the party.

Perhaps...he should not attend the party. Perhaps he should leave the RFA altogether. Without Rika, and with V’s involvement sporadic at best, what is left for him in the organization? At times, he’d felt like the RFA was his family--the _only_ family that mattered--but now?

He’s read through the old chat logs.

He knows what the RFA members think of him.

M.C. had been his only defender.

But Jumin had sent her away.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

He refuses to think about it all the way to the C&R corporate office. He ignores the watchful eyes of Driver Kim, the older man’s bushy brows drawn low in the rearview mirror, and tries to lose himself in the backlog of email waiting for him after his two day absence. He can’t reply--he hasn’t quite figured out how to do so on his phone--but he can familiarize himself with facts and figures, reports and proposals while Driver Kim navigates them through morning traffic.

 

Jaehee is waiting for him when he arrives at the office. She scribbles a note on her clipboard and then looks up. Her eyes go wide behind her glasses. “Mr. Han? Are you sure you should be back? I can reschedule with Mr. Chairman--”

“No need,” Jumin says, interrupting her. “I am here.”

“You don’t look well. But, alright. How is M.C.?”

Jumin frowns. “I sent her home. Back to Rika’s apartment.”

One of Jaehee’s hands settles where her collar bone would be, underneath her starched white shirt. “Oh. Did something happen?”

Jumin feels something hot bubble up inside him. He clenches his hands at his sides, attempting to keep it in check. “No.”

“No?” Jaehee runs to keep up with his long strides. “I thought--”

“You thought _what_ , Assistant Kang?” Jumin snarls, rounding on her. “That I would keep her forever? That I was hurting her? Forcing her to stay with me?”

Jaehee takes a step backward, her expression briefly fearful. Jumin has never once lost his temper with her, not in the two years she has worked under him. It doesn’t take long for the shock to wear off, however. She straightens, holding her clipboard to her. “I thought that M.C. would stay with you until you were feeling better.”

The look in her eyes says what she can’t out loud. That it’s obvious that he _isn’t_ feeling better. That he should not have sent M.C. away. That his behavior is erratic--unbecoming for a corporate heir. 

Jumin closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. He tries to find the coolness that has always been so easy for him. But no matter how hard he tries, it slips out of his grasp, like water running through his fingers. “I apologize, Assistant Kang. Please, catch me up on what I have missed.”

Jaehee falls into step with him as they continue to his office. She reads through her clipboard as she speaks, taking notes whenever he makes a comment. If not for the concerned glances she continues to throw at him, Jumin could almost pretend that this day is unlike any other.

He sits down at his desk, sinking into it like a stone dropped into a pond, just as Jaehee finishes speaking. There is a mountain of paperwork on his desk, things that his assistant could not take care of in his absence, things that will require his signature. He will need to read through all of it.

He pulls a report from the stack. Letters and figures swim on the page, refusing to focus. He puts it down with a sigh. 

He is...disgusted, with himself. Work, Elizabeth the 3rd, and the RFA have always been everything to him. Without them, without their comfort, he feels…

Empty.

Hollow.

Alone.

Jaehee shifts from foot to foot in front of his desk. He hadn’t dismissed her, not verbally, but usually he doesn’t need to. If this had been any other time, he might have been annoyed with her, for watching him instead of getting back to work. This time, however, he is strangely...grateful for her presence.

“Mr. Han? Can I bring you anything? Coffee?”

He wants a glass of wine. Or something with a higher proof. But it is far too early for him to be drinking. And he’ll need a clear head for when he speaks to his father. “No, I-- Assistant Kang.”

“Mr. Han?”

“Am I--Am I making a mistake?”

Jaehee frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. With regards to what, Mr. Han?”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. 

Despite Sarah’s credit scores and her failing company, should he have listened to his father? Should he have agreed to marry her? If he had gone along with his father’s wishes from the start, if he had buried that betrayal instead of resisting it, could he have avoided each subsequent betrayal?

He would never have bought the cage for Elizabeth. She would have never run away. M.C. would never have come to his apartment. He wouldn’t have had to ask her to stay with him in his penthouse. Zen and the other RFA members, they would have never said the things that they had. And he wouldn’t be caught in the whirlpool of his own emotions.

Had he let his regard for M.C. get him into this situation?

Had he made a mistake? And now that he’s made it, is it worth trying to correct?

_I’m sorry, Rika_ , he thinks, _I’m more lonely now than I’ve ever been_. 

“Mr. Han?” Jaehee is several steps closer, now. He hadn’t been aware that she’d moved.

“Should I accept my father’s plans for me? To marry Sarah?”

Jaehee adjusts her glasses. “I am only an assistant, I could never--”

Jumin shakes his head. “I am not asking you as my assistant. I am asking you as an RFA member. As a...friend.”

Jaehee blinks several times. “As a friend?”

He has no right to call her such. As his assistant, he expects much of her, even disregarding her own feelings in order to get the work done. He’s piled project after project on her, expecting her to be capable enough to handle them, plus her administrative duties, despite her complaints. He has always kept her at arm’s length, aware that everyone’s eyes have always been on him, aware that they all expect him to follow in his father’s promiscuous footsteps. He has been no more her friend than Zen can claim to be friends with Jumin. “Neverm--”

“It would be a mistake to marry Sarah,” Jaehee says, interrupting him. “As a friend, I would advise against it.”

Jumin’s fingers seek out one of his cufflinks. “You would?”

“Sarah is not a good choice for you nor for the company. Your father is too blinded by his infatuation with Glam to see that Sarah would only cause you unhappiness and scandal.” Jaehee pauses. Perhaps bolstered by her previous honesty, she continues, “And it is clear that there is something between you and M.C..”

His heart skips a beat. “M.C.?”

“She very obviously cares for you.”

His face heats up. Jumin drops his eyes. “I--thank you...Jaehee.”

“You’re welcome. If you don’t need anything further, there is plenty of work to do. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jeahee shuts the door to his office behind her, leaving Jumin not only with piles of paperwork to go through, but much to think about before the meeting with his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jumin. I just want to wrap him in a blanket and hand him a glass of wine and Elizabeth.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, but this second one is super short. >:}

Luciel is in the kitchen, opening a fresh bag of Honey Buddha Chips, when the alarm blares. He drops the bag of chips, spilling them across the floor. They crunch underneath his feet as Luciel runs across the house, to the source of the noise.

There are several alert pop-ups on the screen of his computer. Each one labeled with skulls and crossbones and the words ‘Security Breach.’

Someone is attempting to hack into the RFA.

But this time, the hacker isn’t trying to leave cryptic messages in the chat room.

He’s trying to hack into the security for Rika’s apartment.

“No, no, no, no, no. M.C.!” Luciel is barely in his chair before his fingers are typing furiously at the keyboard. 

The other hacker is good, but there is only so much one can learn from copying Luciel’s methods. Luciel still has a few tricks up his sleeves. He just hopes they will be enough.

As he types, Luciel sends up a silent prayer. _Please let this work. Please, please help me keep her safe. Jumin will never forgive me if anything happens to her._


	14. Chapter 14

M.C. inputs the code to unlock Rika’s apartment. The lock beeps once, before the red light turns green. M.C. turns the handle and steps into Rika’s empty apartment with a quiet sigh. She drops her backpack by the door and toes off her flats.

Everything is just as she’d left it. Which is to say, everything is just as Rika had left it. While living in the apartment for several days before going to Jumin’s penthouse, M.C. had done her best not to touch anything. The only signs of her living in the small apartment are the dirty dishes still in the sink from two days prior and Rika’s unmade bed.

She’s exhausted after a poor night’s sleep. She drops onto the bed, clothes and all, and closes her eyes. But no matter how tired she feels, sleep continues to evade her. She groans in frustration and pulls her phone from her pocket. She might as well check the RFA chatroom.

Not much has happened since she last logged in. Yoosung has been complaining about having to take care of Elizabeth the 3rd. Zen has been complaining about Jaehee’s workload as well as M.C.’s ‘imprisonment,’ but less so than he has been, especially after Jaehee had reiterated M.C.’s words from the night before. M.C. counts it as a win. 707 has logged in less often and the others have all expressed worry for him.

Jumin, it seems, hasn’t participated in any of the chats since before her arrival at his penthouse. She had hoped to see him online, to give her any indication that he is feeling better, or to give her news on how his meeting with his father had gone. But there is nothing.

M.C. sighs and clicks into the chat. Zen is there, talking about his new role.

 **M.C.:** Congrats, Zen.

 **Zen:** Finally~ Someone says something!

 **Zen:** All anyone can talk about is that jerk and his cat;;;

 **Zen:** Is he going to take it back from Yoosung soon?

 **M.C.:** It’s not really my place to say.

 **M.C.:** But I hope so.

 **Zen:** How are you, M.C.? Is Jumin still...treating you well?

M.C. laughs. She appreciates Zen’s newly discovered tact.

 **M.C.:** He did treat me well.

 **M.C.:** I’m back at Rika’s apartment now.

 **Zen:** What? Really??

 **Zen:** I’m so relieved. ^^

 **Zen:** Did something happen?? That jerk wasn’t mean to you or anything, was he???

 **M.C.:** He wasn’t mean. He decided that he was feeling well enough to send me home.

It’s not quite the truth, but M.C. isn’t going to give Zen the details of that morning. She knows he’ll blow it all out of proportion and berate Jumin. As much has his sending her away had hurt her, Jumin doesn’t deserve harsh words from Zen. And she certainly doesn’t need Zen to defend her, the shining white knight he already imagines himself to be.

 **Zen:** Well, good.

 **Zen:** Now Jaehee can focus on her own work

 **Zen:** instead of doing all of Jumin’s for him.

 **M.C.:** He should be having a meeting with his father soon. About Sarah.

 **M.C.:** I hope it goes well.

M.C. almost doesn’t hear it. The rapping is soft, at first, muted. As if someone is wearing winter gloves with a lot of padding. It grows in volume, sharp and deliberate.

 **M.C.:** Zen, I’ve got to go.

 **M.C.:** Someone is knocking at the door

 **Zen:** Wait, M.C.! Should you open it? A woman all by herself??

 **Zen:** Nobody is even supposed to know where it is!!

The knocking grows insistent.

 **M.C.:** It might be V. Or Seven.

 **M.C.:** or someone with the wrong apartment number

 **M.C.:** ttyl

Instead of closing out the chat, M.C. shoves the phone into her pocket as she climbs out of Rika’s bed. The knocking is so loud now, like the person on the other side is banging on the door with their fist.

Unlocking the door, M.C. throws it open. “Can I _help_ you?”

The man on the other side has silver hair, darker than Zen’s, with pink tips. Half of his face is covered by a black mask, pulled over his mouth and nose. He wears a choker around his neck, a red shirt, and a black leather jacket. One sleeve of the jacket is pulled low, showing off a tattoo of an eye, the bold black ink stark against pale skin. On his wrist is a spiked bracelet. 

If his appearance weren’t strange enough, it’s his eyes that catch M.C.’s attention. Ice blue, rimmed in kohl. There is something in them, something fanatical, something furious, something _terrible_.

M.C. shuts the door, but the man catches it before it can close. “Is that any way to treat a guest, M.C.?”

The man is much stronger than her. He pushes the door open, throwing M.C. backwards. She stumbles and falls, catching herself on her wrists. She cries out in pain, clutching her right wrist to her chest. She must have landed on it wrong.

But there isn’t time for her to let herself be distracted by the pain. She scrabbles backwards as the stranger enters the apartment. He lets the door slam closed behind him.

“What do you want?” M.C. asks. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you, M.C.. Everything about the RFA.”

M.C.’s back hits the wall. There is nowhere for her to go, not with the stranger blocking the entrance. He continues to advance on her, one hand in his pocket, as if he were just out for a casual stroll.

She should get up. She should run, fight, anything but sit here on the floor. But what if there is a gun in his pocket? What if she can’t escape? What would he do to her then?

“Don’t worry, M.C.,” the stranger says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to save you. I’m going to help you find paradise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:}


	15. Chapter 15

Jumin watches his father leave the conference room, followed by his bodyguards. He waits for the door to close before he lets his shoulders slump.

The meeting had gone well. As well as he could have expected. As usual, he and his father had butted heads when it came to his father’s promiscuity. But the older man had surprised him. Had he really been worried for Jumin? Worried that Jumin would spend his life lonely if he did not step in and suggest a marriage partner for his son?

Jumin loves his father. But the older man has never once voiced concerns about Jumin’s personal relationships. Or lack thereof. Hadn’t he always been the one to lecture Jumin on the importance of work and keeping his emotions in check? Hadn’t he shown Jumin, by example, that others are only out for what he can do for them, the luxuries that he can provide?

Before he moved out of his father’s home, Jumin can remember his father’s wives, each one only a few years older than himself. He can remember them cooing over designer bags and dresses, sports cars, and vacations to exotic locales. He can remember the shame he felt whenever they would touch him. Each one would attempt to use her role as his step mother to embrace him, hold him, and--on more than one occasion--kiss him. He can remember his father, returning home late most nights, with lipstick staining his shirts, saturated in the strong scent of his latest girlfriend’s perfume.

Jumin had promised himself long ago never to let himself fall into the same lifestyle as his father. No matter how lonely he becomes. And after Rika chose V, after V began to pull away after Rika’s death, as if he were the only person to feel her loss, Jumin had convinced himself that the only love he needed in his life was Elizabeth the 3rd.

Had he really alluded to having feelings for someone else, when his father had asked him why he so strongly protested marrying Sarah? Had he really nearly confessed his regard for M.C.?

After he had sent her away?

It’s unlikely that she will want anything to do with him now that he’s pushed her away. He had taken from her the same manner he loathed in each of the women who have sought him out. Not material objects, nothing with monetary value. But he had asked her to stay with him, she had given him kindness and support. And he hadn’t even thanked her.

“Damn,” he says. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes against the harsh fluorescents of the conference room. His headache hasn’t left him.

The door to the conference room opens on well-maintained hinges. It closes again, just as quiet.

“This conference room is booked for the next half-hour,” he says, not looking up.

“Mr. Han? I take it the meeting did not go well?”

Jumin opens his eyes to see Jaehee watching him with..concern? “He listened to what I had to say. Whether he will heed any of it is another matter.”

“Then you are not confident that you got through to him?”

“How can I be?” Jumin shakes his head. “He is too much in the sway of Glam.”

“I believe I can help with that.” Jaehee hands him her clipboard. “Courtesy of 707. He sent this to me not long after he came back from the mountains with Yoosung.”

Jumin skims through each document, his eyes growing more and more wide the farther he reads. He looks at Jaehee, who smiles. “You are certain all of this is true?”

Jaehee adjusts her glasses. “I verified it all this morning. It’s true.”

Jumin is momentarily speechless. He clears his throat, giving the clipboard back to his assistant. “Assistant Kang--Jaehee. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Jumin thinks for a long moment, a plan formulating in his mind. “Actually, yes. Can you invite as many reporters as you can to the RFA party? Legitimate ones.”

“I can,” Jaehee says, in the same tone of voice she uses when he tells her that he’ll be bringing Elizabeth the 3rd to stay with her. “Why?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to do anything to harm all the work M.C. has put into planning this party.”

“You still haven’t said what it is that you plan to do.”

“I’m asking you to trust me. Will you do it?”

Jaehee sighs. “I will. I better start compiling a list now.”

She turns to leave. Jumin stops her, just as her hand settles on the door knob. “Oh, and Jaehee?”

Jaehee turns, her expression guarded, wary. “Yes?”

“After the party, please feel free to take some time off. If there are specific dates you wish to take off, please let me know.”

Jaehee blinks. “A holiday?”

Jumin smiles, just a small upturn of the corner of his mouth. “I believe that is what they’re called, yes.”

“I--Thank you, Mr. Han.”

Jumin follows Jaehee out of the conference room, feeling slightly better than he has since he sent M.C. away.

 

An hour after Jumin sits down to read through the reports on his desk, Jaehee knocks on the door to his office. “There is, uh, someone here to see you, Mr. Han.”

Jumin frowns. “Who is it? I thought you cleared all of my meetings for today?”

Zen appears behind Jaehee. “It’s me.”

Jumin sighs. “Hyun. What do you want?”

Jaehee backs out of the office, closing the door behind Zen. Zen stalks across Jumin’s office on long legs, his ponytail swinging behind him, and slams both of his hands on Jumin’s desk. “We need to talk.”

Jumin winces, his headache protesting the noise. “I already sent M.C. back to Rika’s apartment. What more could you possibly have to say to me?”

“That’s the problem.”

Jumin is familiar with annoyance, especially in regards to Zen. “How is that the problem? I thought this is what you wanted all along?”

Zen’s eyes narrow. “So you’ve been reading the chats?”

Jumin sits back in his chair. He crosses his legs and then his arms, looking every bit the spoiled corporate heir Zen claims him to be. “Yes. But I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“You obviously haven’t read the latest conversation.”

M.C. must have explained how he’d sent her away. He can only imagine what she must have said to send Zen all the way to Jumin’s office. “No. I have a company to run.”

“Well, if you’d taken the time to check it, you’d know that M.C. is in danger.”

Something like static runs down Jumin’s spine. “What?”

“You sent her back to Rika’s apartment. Well, someone knocked on the door and M.C. went to answer it. But she never logged out. Ten minutes later, this is what she wrote.” Zen holds out his phone. The screen shows the RFA chatroom.

Jumin takes the phone from him. He reads through the last messages left in the chatroom.

**M.C.:** ttyl

**Zen:** Seriously, M.C.. You shouldn’t open the door!

**M.C.:** SOS

**Zen:** M.C.!

**Zen:** What happened???

**Zen:** M.C.??????

**Zen:** I’m going to get help! Hold on!!

Jumin’s heart stops in his chest. For a long moment, he sits there, unmoving, unable to even draw breath.

“Jumin?” It’s Zen’s voice, but it comes from very far away.

A hand appears in front of his face. It waves back and forth. “Jumin, what the hell? We don’t have time for your robot act. We have to save M.C.!”

Everything comes rushing back. His heart starts beating. He takes in a greedy breath of air. Sound begins to make sense again. Zen stares at him, his face flushed with anger.

“We don’t know where she is,” Jumin says. His voice is hoarse, as if he’d just spent the last few hours screaming. He lifts his eyes to meet Zen’s red irises. “We don’t know where Rika’s apartment is.”

“I’ve already tried calling Luciel about a hundred times. He isn’t answering his phone. I thought, since you and V are good friends, you’d have some way of getting in contact with him. You could convince him to give us the address.”

“V hasn’t been answering my calls.” He had tried, earlier. He’d wanted to tell V his decision about Elizabeth. But each call had been sent straight to voicemail. Jumin’s messages had been likewise ignored.

Zen throws up his hands. “There has to be _something_ we can do! We have to help M.C.! What if the hacker got to her? What if she’s been hurt?”

“Shut up,” Jumin snaps. “I need to think.”

Zen paces back and forth in front of Jumin’s desk. “I can’t believe you let this happen. I can’t believe she managed to escape your clutches, only for you to send her straight into the hands of the only person who could possibly be _worse_.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Jumin says again.

But Zen is right. It is his fault. He had sent M.C. away, even after she’d expressed worry over her safety. 

The hacker had never been caught, had never been dealt with.

He should have known something like this would happen.

He should have known that if something like this _were_ to happen, he’d never be able to get to her.

Jumin picks up his phone with the intent of calling V. He gets as far as unlocking it before it vibrates in his hand.

707.

Jumin swipes to answer the call. “Luciel, M.C. is--”

“--in danger, I know.”

“How did this happen? I thought you said the apartment was secure?”

“It was!” Luciel says. Keys clack furiously in the background. “He hacked into the security system.”

“Tell us the address,” Zen says. “Tell him to give us the address.”

“Is that Zen?” Luciel asks. “What’s he doing at your office? Nevermind, we don’t have time.”

“Tell me where to go, Luciel,” Jumin says. “I have to go to her.”

“You can’t. Not yet.” 

“What do you mean, not yet?”

“Dude!” Zen says. “What the hell is going on. Put it on speaker.”

Jumin has no idea how to put his phone on speaker. Even if he did, he wouldn’t waste a moment to do so. “Luciel--”

More furious typing. “Part of the security system Rika had me set up included a bomb.”

Jumin’s eyes go wide. His heart is pounding hard in his chest. He can feel echoes of each thump against his rib cage reverberate throughout his body. “A bomb.”

“A bomb!” Zen shouts. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a box of cigarettes.

Jumin glares at him.

“Luciel,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level. “M.C. has been in danger this whole time and you never said anything?”

“It was only for emergency situations! It was to keep everyone but RFA members out. But this guy hacked it so that it’s the other way around. RFA members can’t go in, or they’ll set off the bomb. I’m trying to counter-hack it, so just give me a minute.”

“We’re wasting time. Give me the address. Zen and I will wait for you to tell us that it’s safe to enter.”

Luciel doesn’t answer. Jumin doesn’t know whether the other man is hesitating or if his attention is focused on counter-hacking the security system. Quieter, Jumin says. “I can’t sit here, Luciel. M.C. is--She’s precious to me. Please.”

“Okay, okay. But when this is all over, don’t think I’m not going to tease you for saying something so lovey-dovey.”

Luciel rattles off an address, which Jumin jots down onto one of the reports in front of him. He’ll have the author of it print a new one after he goes to M.C.. 

He should have never let go of her.

His instinct had been to hold on, but he’d pushed her away, instead. 

Zen takes the paper out of his hands as soon as he’s done writing. “I’ll drive.”

“Luciel, call us when it’s safe to go in. We’re on our way.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” Luciel says. The line clicks and goes dead.

“Let’s go,” Jumin says.

Zen’s tires screech when he pulls out onto the street. Jumin holds on tight. He can only hope M.C. is doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want to leave you all with too much of a cliff hanger before the weekend. I'll be in South Beach for the weekend, but I should be back to writing next week.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has left comments, left kudos, and added my story to your bookmarks. You are all THE BEST. It honestly encourages me to write more and post as often as I can. You guys are just lovely.


	16. Chapter 16

Zen watches the man in the passenger seat. Even as he swerves through traffic, going well above the speed limit, his eyes continue to find the older man in his periphery. Could this man really be Jumin Han?

Jumin sits, almost folded into himself, his shoulders one long line of tension. His hands are clenched in his lap. His eyes are dark, far darker than their usual grey, like rain clouds heavy with an oncoming storm.

The Jumin Han that Zen knows would be lounging in the back seat, examining his fingernails as he entertained business calls. He would tease Zen about his acting or brag about his cat, simply because he knows how much it bothers Zen. He would give back seat driving advice, even though it’s an accepted fact that Jumin is the worst driver of their group. His eyes would be shuttered, his face schooled into a careful mask, showing no emotion other than haughty distance.

How could these two men be the same person?

A horn blares as Zen cuts in front of traffic. Zen flips the car off and darts into another lane without signalling. He guns the engine just as a traffic light switches from yellow to red, running the light.

Jumin’s expression doesn’t change, not even to berate Zen for his reckless driving. 

Zen’s frown deepens. Had the other man gotten lost inside his own head? Had he shut down again, as he had in his office?

Familiar anger rises to the surface, but it’s tempered by the fact that Zen has never seen Jumin react like this. Not even to the news of Rika’s death.

Could M.C. _really_ be that precious to him?

“Hey,” Zen says. 

Zero response.

“Trust-fund kid,” Zen tries.

Still no answer.

“ _Jumin_ ,” Zen finally snaps.

Jumin takes a deep breath, like the first breath one takes after being submerged. He looks like he’s just come back to _life_. 

He doesn’t say anything, only looks at Zen with an expression so _lost_ that Zen immediately regrets having said anything.

“We’ll be there in two minutes,” Zen says, voice softer than he’s ever used in Jumin’s presence. “M.C. will be okay. Seven will make sure of it.”

Jumin averts his eyes. “I--”

Zen’s own eyes go wide. Jumin Han, speechless? Will wonders never cease? Who _is_ this man sitting next to him?

“You don’t gotta thank me or anything,” Zen says. He keeps his eyes focused on the road, stubbornly avoiding looking at Jumin. “Just stay with me, alright? Stop disappearing like that. It’s really creeping me out.”

 

Seven calls just as Zen swerves to a stop in front of the apartment building. Jumin answers the it, barely giving the phone time to finish the first ring. “Luciel. M.C.--is she okay?”

Zen pulls the older man into a run, the phone still pressed to his ear. “We’re wasting time. C’mon, we need to get to Rika’s apartment.”

“You’ve finished hacking into the security system?” Jumin asks. Zen has to hand it to the other man’s personal trainer. Despite being older, Jumin isn’t even a little out of breath as Zen pulls him up the flight of stairs behind him. Zen huffs and promises himself he’ll quit smoking. Just as soon as they save M.C.. 

“It will let us through the door, but not the hacker? You’re certain.”

Zen counts apartment numbers as they tear down the hall. 202...204...208...

“I will not endanger M.C. further, Luciel. Are you certain or not?”

210...212...214…

Almost there.

Zen is yanked to a stop as Jumin comes to an abrupt halt. “Dude, what the hell?”

Jumin ignores him. “What do you mean by that? Whatever we do, don’t hurt him? Luciel? _Luciel_.”

Jumin frowns. He lowers the phone from his ear, slowly.

Zen pulls at his arm. “Come _on_.”

“Luciel knows something,” Jumin says. “Something about the hacker.”

“We’ll figure that out _after_ we save the damsel in distress. We can go in, right?”

Jumin nods. He shakes himself out of his inaction and races ahead of Zen.

216...218...220.

Jumin inputs a code into the lock on the door without even checking his phone or the paper still clutched in one of Zen’s hands. He must have memorized it on the drive over. The light changes from red to green and beeps once, unlocked.

Two pairs of eyes lock onto Jumin and Zen as they burst into the apartment, one frightened, the other a fanatic glowing green.

The hacker laughs. “So he managed to reverse it. No matter.”

“You won’t be able to leave,” Zen says. “You’ll set off the bomb.”

M.C.’s eyes go wide. She’s on the floor, her back against a wall, her wrist clutched to her chest. “A bomb?”

The hacker places a finger at the corner of his lips and taps it. He smiles, wide, with too many teeth. It gives Zen goosebumps. 

“I could always set it off with all of you here,” the hacker says. There is a childish, sing-song quality to his voice. “We could all go to paradise, together.”

“You will not,” Jumin says. “The authorities are on their way.”

The hacker turns his too-wide smile on Jumin. “Nice bluff, Jumin Han. A true businessman. But there is no one on the way, is there? The address for this apartment is top secret.”

Zen grits his teeth. “We don’t need the authorities. It’s two against one, in case you haven’t noticed. We’ll stop you ourselves.”

The hacker cocks his head to the side, like a dog listening for a command. “Hyun. Paradise calls for you. Can’t you hear it?”

Zen shakes his head. In his periphery, Jumin makes his way toward M.C.. He helps her to stand, placing his arm around her waist.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” Zen says. “Don’t try to pretend you know what my paradise is.”

“Peace, serenity, a place where pain and anguish do not exist. _This_ is paradise. And we _will_ make you see it. One day.” The hacker begins to back away. “For now, since you’ve ruined my fun, I’ll take my leave. But know this. We _will_ meet again. And the RFA _will_ join us.”

Zen takes an aborted step toward the hacker as the strange man throws himself toward the window. Glass shatters and rains down onto the floor and the man is gone. “What the--?”

“Could he have survived that?” M.C. asks, one hand over her mouth in shock.

Jumin turns to her, hands gripping each of her shoulders. “M.C., are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Jumin. Really. I fell on my wrist, but I think it’s just sprained.” Her arms wind around Jumin’s waist. She presses her face into his chest. “I’m so glad you came to rescue me.”

“I will always come for you, M.C..” Jumin says, wrapping her up in his arms. “ _Always_.”

Zen gives the pair a reluctant moment before clearing his throat. 

M.C. looks up from Jumin’s chest. She smiles. “You too, Zen. Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome. But we need to get out of here. There’s a good chance that guy survived and he could be back at any minute, so…”

“Right,” M.C. says. “Give me just a moment.”

She picks up her backpack and goes to the closet. Taking handfuls of clothes, she shoves them into the bag and zips it shut. Slinging it over her shoulder, she says, “I don’t think I should come back here. At least, not for a while.”

Zen opens his mouth to graciously offer her his spare room, but Jumin beats him to it. “I’d like it if you stayed with me, M.C..”

“Dude,” Zen complains. “At least offer to put her up in a hotel. Seriously, she _just_ left your apartment.”

Jumin blinks. Color rises in his cheeks. “I see. I’ll call Assistant Kang and have her book something.”

Zen’s jaw drops open. He would never have believed Jumin would actually ever listen to him.

M.C. glares at Zen until he shuts his mouth. He shuffles from foot to foot, chastised. 

“I would love to stay with you, Jumin. I didn’t want to leave, in the first place.”

Jumin ducks his head. “I apologize, M.C.. I should have never sent you away.”

“I’m happy for both of you, I really am, but seriously, we need to go,” Zen says. “Like, now.”

In the car, both Jumin and M.C. sit in the back seat. M.C. leans into Jumin, her uninjured hand on his chest. Jumin, cheeks red, places his arm around her and holds her close. His eyes are defiant whenever they meet Zen’s in the rearview mirror, but no matter how much Zen tries, he can’t ignore the way Jumin’s whole expression softens whenever he looks at M.C..


	17. Chapter 17

Zen drops M.C. and Jumin off at Jumin’s building. They’re met in the lobby with a number of bodyguards, each shamefaced at having been given the slip. Jumin waves away the chief of security when the man tries to apologize for his staff. Barely giving the security team a glance, he gives instructions not to let anyone up to his penthouse without his express permission.

His arm is still around her waist, guiding her, but also supporting her. M.C. is exhausted after the day’s emotional rollercoaster, but the warmth of his hand on her hip gives her the strength to keep going. It doesn’t stop her from leaning into his body once they are on the elevator, however. Jumin flinches, still unused to such casual contact, before wrapping his arms around her. He lowers his head, resting his cheek on her crown. Neither M.C. nor Jumin pays any attention to the bodyguard standing in the corner, his gaze averted.

The elevator doors slide open. Jumin holds her more tightly to him, unwilling to let her go. M.C. squeezes back. They stand like that, locked in an embrace, long enough that the elevator doors slide closed again. The bodyguard, without being told, presses a button to keep the elevator in place. Finally, M.C. laces the fingers of her uninjured hand through his and smiles. "Let's go home."

As soon as they enter his penthouse, Jumin wastes no time scooping her back up again. He holds her to him like she's something precious, like he's afraid that she'll disappear if he so much as loses contact with her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” M.C. says, laughing. But she lets him draw her into an embrace.

“Please, don’t ever leave my side. Even if I send you away, know that I always want you here. With me.”

M.C. pulls away, just enough to cup his cheek. Her thumb caresses the swell of his cheekbone and Jumin sighs, leaning into the touch. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t send me away again,” M.C. says. She smiles, letting him know that she isn’t angry with him for having done so in the first place.

Rosy pink spreads across Jumin’s cheeks. “I should never have let you go. I put you in danger.” He takes her injured hand in his and brushes his lips over her wrist. “You were hurt because of me.”

“I was hurt because of that person, Jumin. The hacker did this, not you.”

Jumin ducks his head, unconvinced. “Let me wrap your wrist for you.”

He leads her to the sofa. She sits while he disappears into the bathroom, returning with a first aid kit. Setting it down beside her, Jumin opens it and takes out a roll of bandages. M.C. offers him her wrist for him to wrap, wincing a little as he ties the bandage tight, but not too tight.

Once he’s finished to his satisfaction, Jumin bows over her wrist to brush another kiss over the bandage. He looks up and M.C.’s heart pounds in her chest at his closeness, his face only inches away from her own.

Heat spreads across her cheeks, all the way up to her ears. “Jumin,” she says, or means to, but it comes out a whisper.

“M.C.,” Jumin says, just as quiet. “I have wanted-- Since the beginning, I-- May I--”

M.C. presses her lips to his, interrupting him before he can finish the question. Jumin makes a sound of surprise, but quickly recovers. He tilts his head and returns the kiss with a quiet sigh.

The kiss is short and sweet and chaste. Jumin breaks away and leans his forehead against hers. He breathes a quiet laugh. “Can you hear it?”

“Can I hear what?” M.C. asks.

“My heart,” Jumin says. “It’s beating quite loud. Like there is a drum in my chest.”

M.C. takes one of his hands and places it over her own heart, where her heartbeat thrums under her skin. “Mine, too.”

Jumin’s eyes widen and he blushes a faint pink. His gaze moves from his hand on her chest, up to trace the column of her throat, and lands on her lips. 

M.C.’s tongue darts out to wet them. 

Something sparks in his dark eyes and he leans down to kiss her once more. He slides his lips against hers, once, twice, before he breaks away. 

“I want so much,” he says. “But I have never done--I have not--”

M.C. smiles and squeezes the hand still pressed to her heart. “We can take it slow, Jumin.”

“Slow?”

“Yeah. Like, how about we just focus on having a quiet dinner together and calling it a night? We’ve had a _lot_ of excitement today.”

Jumin goes quiet for a long moment, but M.C. knows that he is thinking.

“We have done this in a strange order,” Jumin says. “After the party, I would like for us to go out on a--a date. Like a real couple. If you are not adverse to it.”

“I’d like that,” M.C. says. "I'd like that very much.

Jumin smiles one of his rare smiles. It’s small and crooked, yet charming in its sincerity. It makes M.C. want to make him smile more often, if only to give him more practice. “Very well. Then, I will call the chef.”

Their meal, when it comes, is seared salmon with an arugula and avocado salad. They eat with bowls perched on their laps, sitting close on the sofa. M.C. switches on the television, but avoids channels that may be running gossip about Jumin or his father. She finds another movie and keeps the volume low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I went back and edited this chapter quite a bit. Mostly just cosmetic changes, nothing major.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and did some cosmetic edits to the last chapter. It shouldn't be necessary for anyone to have to re-read it, but I'm much happier with it now.

Jumin’s phone rings as the credits begin to roll. M.C., who had been dozing for the last few minutes, starts against Jumin. He gives her an apologetic glance and takes the call out onto the balcony. He paces as he speaks, a frown marring the handsomeness of his face. Bad news, perhaps? 

“What’s wrong?” M.C. asks, as soon as the call ends and Jumin returns.

“It was V,” Jumin says. “He apologized for not answering his phone while you were in danger. He was out of the country on a trip and didn’t have service. He’ll be returning soon, in time for the party.” He pauses. “I--told him about Elizabeth.”

“What did he say?”

“He doesn’t agree with my choice. I had to convince him that it may not be ideal, but it is right, nonetheless. It will be better for Elizabeth the 3rd if V takes care of her.”

M.C. frowns.

Jumin’s hand finds the silver cufflink at his wrist. “You also do not agree with my choice.”

“Not really.”

Jumin looks at the floor by his feet. “I see.”

“But,” M.C. says, “I think if you need time away from Elizabeth to work through your feelings, having V take care of her might be for the best.”

Jumin sits down next to M.C. on the sofa. He laughs, rueful. “I am not accustomed to having my decisions questioned.”

M.C. leans her head on Jumin’s shoulder. “All I want is for you to be happy. I’m sure V is the same way.”

“I am happy when I am with you, M.C..”

M.C. smiles. “I’m glad. But you shouldn’t be dependent on just one person for your happiness.”

“I don’t understand.”

Tilting her head to look up at him, M.C. says, “I’ve noticed that you tend to treat everything as if it were a business transaction. Two parties go in, negotiate, sign a contract, and deliver. But friendship, love, they aren’t like that. It would be a lot of pressure for one person to be _everything_ for another person, all the time.”

Jumin frowns. “Then what I feel...for you--it’s wrong?”

M.C. climbs onto her knees, turning to face Jumin. She cups his cheek and looks straight into anxious black eyes. “No, Jumin, not at all. It’s completely okay to have someone who is special to you. You…are special to me, too.”

Jumin’s eyes turn inward, analyzing the information. “Is that...is that why my father has so many girlfriends? To relieve the pressure?”

Smiling sadly, M.C. cards fingers through Jumin’s unruly hair. “No, no. That’s something else entirely. He’s not a very good example, unfortunately. What I’m saying is you should have friends and family, your pet, even yourself. Those should make you happy, too.”

“You are saying that I should keep Elizabeth the 3rd, because she makes me happy?”

“Yes. And because, by all accounts, you were an excellent owner. I’m sure you make her happy, as well.”

Jumin’s brows furrow. “But I abused her. She ran away.”

“You didn’t abuse her,” M.C. says. She strokes his hair, pushing it back from his face. “You thought you were doing the right thing, putting her in that cage. You thought you were keeping her safe. But she’s a cat and she couldn’t have understood your purpose in putting her in there. She was upset.”

“Do you think she could forgive me?”

“I think so, yes. But you have to give her the chance. How will you know, otherwise?”

Jumin breathes in. He looks thoughtful, if not fully convinced. “I will think on it.”

“That’s all I can ask of you.” M.C. presses a kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering against his skin. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. Why don’t you think about it tomorrow, after you’ve gotten some rest?”

Jumin smiles, small and shy. 

This time, after they’ve both dressed in their pajamas and have gotten ready for bed, Jumin holds her close, his nose buried in her hair. M.C.falls asleep almost instantly, surrounded by his warmth.

 

The next morning, M.C. wakes to the smell of strawberries.

Sighing happily, she sinks back into the mattress. Jumin is in the kitchen and the bed has lost some of its warmth with his absence, but she’s wrapped up in the duvet, enveloped in his scent. She dozes in the soft light of pre-dawn until Jumin’s voice draws her out of sleep.

“M.C.,” he says. “I took the liberty of making breakfast.”

M.C. rolls onto her back and stretches, groaning when several of her vertebrate pop. “It smells delightful.”

“It is only strawberry pancakes.” Jumin frowns. “I know I have said in the past that all food tastes the same when not prepared by a chef, but perhaps I should expand my library of recipes. I find myself wanting to make all manner of meals for you. Is that strange?”

Smiling, M.C. sits up. “Not at all, Jumin. I look forward to eating whatever you make.”

Jumin snorts, then blinks, having surprised himself by laughing. “Perhaps you will change your mind. To date, strawberry pancakes is the only meal I can make without burning.”

“I could teach you,” M.C. says, rising from the bed. She follows Jumin to the table, already set with stacks of pancakes, bowls of freshly cut fruit, and glasses of orange juice. “Though, it won’t be anything quite as elaborate as you’re probably used to.” 

Jumin holds the chair out for M.C.. “I want to spoil you. You’ve said that I don’t need to impress you, but I think, perhaps, if it were something I’ve made, rather than purchased, you would let me.”

There is a question in his eyes as he sits down across from her. M.C. smiles. “You’ve found my weakness. I could never say no to a home cooked meal.”

“Then spoil you, I shall.” He ducks his head, hiding his face with the excuse of cutting into his pancakes.

After they’ve finished eating, M.C. helps Jumin to clear the dishes, even after protestations at being his guest. She insists on washing them, in return for him having made the food. He reminds her that he can always have the maid do the washing, but M.C. waves the suggestion away. She hands him each dish after she rinses it and Jumin dries it, albeit clumsily, before putting it away. 

“What time do you need to leave for work?” M.C. asks, scrubbing at plate covered in syrup.

Jumin stops drying the bowl in his hands, his mouth open in surprise. He shuts it and furrows his brows instead. “How can you expect me to leave you, after what happened? The hacker has not yet been apprehended.”

M.C. laughs. “Jumin, I’ll be fine. If anything happens, you have guards posted right outside the door and all throughout the building. You should go to work.”

Jumin places the bowl in the cabinet. His back to her, he says, “I won’t be able to concentrate. Is it so bad to want you near?”

M.C. dries off her hands with Jumin’s discarded cloth. She wraps her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. Jumin startles, but settles under her embrace. “It’s not bad. But I’ll still be here, when you get back.”

“May I--May I call you?”

“Of course you can.” The realization hits her almost like a slap to the face. “Oh, wait. No, you can’t.”

Jumin turns in the circle of her arms. There is hurt lurking behind his dark eyes. “No?”

“I completely forgot. After I sent out the SOS message, the hacker took my phone.” M.C. sighs. “How am I supposed to finish getting the party organized without my phone?”

“I could have one sent for you. Do you prefer a particular model? I could--”

“Jumin,” M.C. protests.

Jumin frowns. His movements hesitant, he brushes a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Please. I will worry, if I cannot get in touch with you.”

“Okay,” M.C. says. “But nothing too expensive. I just need to be able to make calls and use the RFA app.”

“Excellent,” Jumin says, brightening. “I will tell Assistant Kang. She will know what to buy. And I’ll have 707 send you the link to the application. He’ll be able to get you set up with Rika’s permissions.”

“Thank you, Jumin. Now,” M.C. takes him by the arms and turns him toward the archway dividing the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, using his surprise at being manhandled to give him a gentle push, “go get dressed. I’ll finish up here, okay?”

His scandalized expression makes her laugh. But he returns twenty minutes later with damp hair, dressed in a navy blue suit. M.C. looks up from her laptop from her place on the sofa to see him holding out two ties, one black with tiny white paw prints, the other a deep solid purple. “Can you--?”

M.C. examines both choices. “Purple. It suits you very much.”

She sees him off once Driver Kim arrives. “Have a good day at work.”

“I will try,” he says. He frowns, then ducks his head. Even behind the fringe of his dark hair, M.C. can tell that he’s blushing. “May I kiss you before I go?”

He’s tall, much taller than she is. M.C. has to draw him down by his lapels. She presses her lips to his. “See you later tonight.”

“I look forward to it,” he says. And with those parting words, he reluctantly pulls away and heads out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So lovely-dovey. Have I sent anyone to the dentist yet with how tooth-rottingly sweet this is??


	19. Chapter 19

It’s difficult to see--but then, that’s nothing new. The physical wound has long since healed, scarred over, leaving most of his world a blur. 

He hasn’t quite gotten used to the cane. Not long ago, he could navigate as he pleased. He could walk, run, skip even--if he were so inclined--without worry. Now, with his sight almost lost in one eye and worsening by the day in the other, the cane is necessary. Even down familiar hallways. He’s lost trust in himself, in his ability to move about spaces he would have previously said that he knew like the back of his hand. He’s learning to trust the cane.

V swings the cane in front of his feet as he takes each step. Until he reaches a door he’s ashamed to say he has not yet visited. If Rika were here--if he weren’t busy living this double life, with her by his side, perhaps even husband and wife by now--this would not be the first time he would have set foot in the dorms of Sky University.

He takes a moment to steel himself before he knocks. He knows that Yoosung has been suspicious of him, ever since Rika disappeared from the younger man’s life. Rightfully so. Deservedly so. But it doesn’t make the younger man’s anger any easier to bear.

“Coming,” Yoosung says, his voice muffled by the door. It swings open and there is silence for a long moment.

“Yoosung,” V says. “It’s been a long time.”

“That’s all you have to say to me? I haven’t seen you for a year and a half and that’s _all_ you have to say?”

V wants to reach out, wants to trace the scowl he knows mars the young man’s expression. The guilt wells up in the pit of his stomach, but he doesn’t push it down. He embraces it, lets it fill him up until it runs cold through his veins, ice water instead of blood. “I’m sorry, Yoosung. Of course that isn’t all I have to say. May I come in?”

Yoosung hesitates, then opens the door wide enough to allow V entrance. “What the heck is up with those sunglasses, anyway? And the cane. Did you hurt yourself or something?”

“Ah,” V says. He he’d known he’d have to face this question. “Something like that. I’m--losing my sight.”

Forgetting his anger, Yoosung reaches out to clasp both of his shoulders. His face comes more into focus as it gets closer to V’s, Yoosung’s violet eyes examining him, as if he can see the scarring beyond the lenses of V’s sunglasses. “Your sight? What happened? V, if you can’t see, how are you going to be able to take photos?”

V smiles. In spite of all the hate Yoosung holds for him, his heart is still compassionate enough to care. “The damage to my eyes was...an accident. And you shouldn’t worry. I have enough photos to get the RFA through several more parties.”

Yoosung shakes him. Not hard, but enough to get his frustration across. “You idiot. I’m not worried about the parties. I’m worried about _you_. Photography has been your whole _life_. What are you going to do without it?”

V doesn’t have the heart to tell him that V won’t be around much longer, not long enough for it to become a problem, anyway. “Let me worry about that, okay?

“How am I not supposed to worry? You basically disappeared--was this what you were hiding?”

It isn’t quite a lie. But there is so much more to it than V can say. He doesn’t want to drag Yoosung into this, not if he can help it. The boy was precious to Rika, once. “I won’t be able to be involved with the RFA anymore. I pulled away...because I didn’t want to upset you. And because--”

“Rika’s death,” Yoosung finishes, voice low.

“Rika’s death,” V agrees.

Yoosung lets go of V’s shoulders. He takes several steps away. V follows his blurry form as he paces the small dorm room. “It hit us all hard, you know. Not just you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you the only one who could just take off? Who could just _disappear_ when things got rough? RFA needed you. Jumin--your best friend--needed you. Even me. _I_ needed you.”

V can’t very well tell Yoosung the truth. So he turns his head and mumbles, “You all managed well enough without me.”

Yoosung stops in his tracks. “No, V. We didn’t. We haven’t held any parties since Rika died. And Jumin--you left him to deal with everything by himself. You didn’t see how _devastated_ he was. He lost not only Rika. He basically lost you, too.”

V shakes his head. Jumin has always been distant, has always held his emotions in check. He’d been there with V, the same impassive look on his face, all throughout the preparations for Rika’s funeral.

Yoosung doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His breath comes out harsh, as if it’s all he can do to keep himself together. Finally, in a voice very unlike the Yoosung V knows, he says, “He loved her, you asshole. Really loved her. And you were the only one who never saw it.”

V shakes his head again. “He never said--”

“Of course he didn’t. And he never told any of us, either. We could just see it.” Yoosung laughs, quiet and bitter. “Jumin is...surprisingly unselfish for a trust fund kid. He kept everything to himself, even his own grief. To be there for you. And the rest of us. To keep the RFA active after you disappeared. I think we’ve all forgotten that. How much he’s done for us.” Yoosung drops into his computer chair. “He got colder, you know. More detached. He was already dedicated to his work, but he really threw himself in it. And I think...the more lonely he got, the more obsessed with Elizabeth he became.”

Through the freezing guilt, Yoosung’s words remind V of why he had come in the first place. “Elizabeth the 3rd. Jumin told me she’s with you.”

Yoosung sighs. “I had to lock her in the bathroom. She kept chewing on the computer cords and I thought she’d electrocute herself. Please tell me Jumin’s changed his mind about me keeping her until the party. I’m not even supposed to have pets in the dorm.”

“He hasn’t. Not yet.”

Groaning, Yoosung slumps in his chair. “I know it’s just a few days, but seriously, I’ve never had a cat before. I have no idea what you’re supposed to do with it.”

“You won’t have to worry about that. I’m taking her back to Jumin.”

“Yes! Thank the gods of LOLOL,” Yoosung says. He moves from his chair, crossing the room. He opens a door and a small white form emerges. 

Elizabeth meows and winds her body through Yoosung’s legs, before flopping onto the ground and rolling onto her back. “Not again, you little furball,” Yoosung says. “I’m not falling for that. I try to rub your belly and you’re just going to bite me again, aren’t you?”

Gingerly, Yoosung scoops Elizabeth from the floor. He holds her at arm’s length as he brings her to V.

V takes her into his arms and holds her close. She rubs her face against his chin. “Hello, Elizabeth. Why don’t we go see your proper owner?”

“I’m sure you and Jumin will both have a lot to talk about, but make sure you call 707, too. He’s been acting weird since we got back from the mountains.”

“I will,” V says. He’d never intended for Luciel to learn the truth. It’s not a conversation he looks forward to having.

“See you at the party?” Yoosung asks as he shows V out of his dorm room.

“I don’t think so.”

“What? Why not?”

Elizabeth squirms in V’s hold. “I did say that I won’t be able to be involved in the RFA anymore. I’m going to be taking another trip, but this time, I won’t be coming back.”

“A trip? Where? Why do you have to leave again?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.” V sighs. “This...will more than likely be the last time I see you, Yoosung.”

Yoosung’s hands tighten into fists by his side. “I can’t believe you, V. You’re selfish and all you do is keep secrets. What about Jumin? You’re just going to drop off his cat and take off again?”

“Jumin has M.C. now. He doesn’t need me.”

“If that’s what you think, V, then you were never really the man I thought you were.” The door slams shut, startling Elizabeth, who claws at V’s arms.

V shushes her as he walks back to the waiting car, Yoosung’s words circling his head with each swing of his cane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung finally, finally gives V a much deserved piece of his mind.
> 
> We're getting closer and closer to the end here. Exciting, but also bittersweet. Thank you again to everyone who has given kudos, commented, and/or bookmarked this fic. :D


	20. Chapter 20

The drive to the C&R building is considerably less fraught with stress and emotion than the day before. 

In fact, Jumin feels strangely light, almost as if he’s floating, despite the seat belt holding him in his seat. 

Is this happiness?

Has he ever been truly happy before? This strange airiness...it’s different from anything he’s ever felt. With his family, with V as a child, with Rika or Elizabeth.

...could this be love?

He’d loved Rika, but his relationship with her had never felt quite like this. His love for her had always been colored--no matter how much he’d tried to deny it--with jealousy. Isolation, even. He’d watched as Rika and V’s relationship grew closer, deeper, more intimate. He’d envied V and, at times, hated the other man for leaving him by the wayside. He’d felt lonelier then than he had in his entire life previous.

Until Rika had brought him Elizabeth. 

He’d put everything, _everything_ into loving Elizabeth. 

And when Rika died…

He hadn’t realized how much he had associated Rika and Elizabeth. He’d treated Elizabeth as an extension of Rika, had transferred his feelings of unrequited love for Rika onto the cat. In his mind, he’d imagined Rika’s kindness and understanding were personality traits of Elizabeth. He’d imagined that his cat loved him in the way that Rika never had. He’d convinced himself that he would never need another woman in his life, not with Elizabeth by his side. Because her love was effectively Rika’s love. And that was all he’d ever wanted--for Rika to love him as he’d loved her.

It had unfortunately taken his world being shaken for him to realize how desperately he’d been holding onto Rika.

It had taken the presence of another to show him that he could love--and be loved in return.

M.C.…cares for him.

Even the thought of it causes the corners of his lips to curl upwards. 

M.C. cares for _him_. Not for what he can provide for her, not for his contacts nor his money. She has spent the last few days helping him without any thought of what she might get in return. She forgave him for sending her away, had let him hold her, kiss her. She’d confessed her desire to see him happy, and even advised him not to rely on her for his happiness, as he had mistakenly relied on Elizabeth. 

Jumin is still smiling when he exits the car. Driver Kim gives him a knowing smile and nods his goodbye.

Jaehee looks up from her clipboard and does a double take. She blinks behind her glasses. “Ah, Mr. Han. I was hoping you would come in today. Is...everything alright? At the penthouse?”

Jumin walks with her to his office. He doesn’t like to discuss RFA business out in the open, but her question is subtle enough. “Everything is fine. I assume everyone was updated on the situation?”

“We were, but there seems to be...another problem.”

Jumin stops, almost causing Jaehee to slam into him. “What do you mean? What problem?”

Jaehee shakes her head. Jumin spots the eyes of a couple employees on him and continues walking. Neither says a word until Jumin shuts the door to his office.

“The hacker,” Jaehee says. “We received several messages from him, in the messenger. Seven traced them back to M.C.’s phone, but he couldn’t find any evidence that it had been hacked into. Do you have any idea how this could have happened?”

Jumin pinches the bridge of his nose. “The hacker took M.C.’s phone from her.”

“Seven was able to do something before too much damage was done, but--”

“What kind of damage?” Jumin interrupts.

“He left several strange messages in the chat room, talking about an organization called Mint Eye and something called Magenta. It was all very strange. Seven says the hacker also managed to send out a mass email to all of the guests M.C. was in contact with, repeating the same information. Seven was able to stop him, but, unfortunately, not without ‘bricking’ the phone.”

Jumin sits down at his desk, falling into the chair with a sigh. He has no idea what ‘bricking’ means, but he assumes it isn’t good. “We will have to do damage control. Can you send a new phone to M.C.? She’s the only one who can communicate with the guests. We’ll need to reassure them that their information is safe.”

Jaehee makes a note on her clipboard. “What if they still don’t want to come to the party?”

“I trust M.C. will be able to handle the situation. Were you able to invite any of the reporters I asked for?”

“I still had the numbers of several reputable reporters from the last press conference your father held.” Jaehee hesitates, tapping her pen against her clipboard several times before meeting his eyes. “Are you sure about this, Mr. Han?”

He nods. “My father will perhaps not appreciate it, but I believe this to be the only way to get my point across.”

“But I’m afraid of the impact it will have on the party. M.C. has worked so diligently, what if this ends up ruining all of her efforts?”

“Thank you, Assistant Kang. For thinking of M.C.. But I assure you, I would do nothing to hinder the success of the party. If my business instincts are correct, it should actually be very beneficial.”

Jaehee nods. “Alright, Mr. Han. I trust that you know what you are doing. If that is all?”

“You may go, Assistant Kang. Thank you.”

As soon as he is alone, Jumin has to fight the urge to pull up the CCTV for his penthouse. Talk of the hacker and the reminder that his father still has not officially called off the engagement with Sarah has made him feel anxious. He can feel it bubbling just underneath his skin. He swallows and pulls a report from the stack in front of him. 

He will respect M.C.’s privacy and focus on his work, instead.

 

Focus is nowhere to be found. For hours, Jumin fights inattention, but to no avail. Instead of addressing the stack of reports waiting for his signature, his thoughts continue to gravitate toward M.C..

He finds himself worrying that she may have gone out on her own. Never mind that he’d ordered his bodyguards not to let her leave their sights. At the same time, he is curious. They have only known each other for a little over a week. There is still so much he does not yet know about her. If she were to leave, where would she go? What sorts of things would she do to entertain herself?

Would she go shopping? Eat her lunch at a restaurant? Would she stop at a park, to take advantage of the sunshine and read? Or would she prefer to see a film? Would she sit at a cafe, where she could do her work in the company of other people? He wants to know everything about her--he’s impatient with the desire to know her. How do normal couples come to know one another?

He flushes when he catches himself already thinking of M.C. and himself as a couple. After that, he resolves to get as much work done as he can, to make the day go by more quickly, in order to return to M.C. as fast as possible.

The sun is setting by the time Jumin decides he’s done enough for the day. He dismisses Jaehee on his way out, visibly surprising her.

“If anyone should be punished for the work piling up in my absence, it should be me. You are my chief assistant--it would be too much for me to expect you to do both my job and yours.”

“I almost want to ask who you are and what you’ve done with the real Mr. Han,” Jaehee says, her eyes wide.

Jumin pretends not to know what she means. “I _am_ the real Mr. Han.”

Jaehee smiles. “In that case--I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but a holiday? Getting to go home on time? You certainly have changed.”

Heat spreads across Jumin’s face. His fingers go to one of his cufflinks, twirling it in its hole. “For the better, I hope?”

“Of course, Mr. Han. I will have to give my thanks to M.C. for being such a good influence.”

“I--” Jumin’s ears burn. He shakes his head. “Goodnight, Assistant Kang. Please call me if there are any further issues.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Han.” 

In the back seat of the car, on the way to his penthouse, Jumin’s pulls out his phone to find one missed message. It’s from M.C..

_I missed you today. Are you on your way home?_

His heart thumps in his chest. His fingers are unsteady as he types out a response.

_I missed you. More than you can know. I’ll be home shortly. Wait for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a mushy break before V returns Elizabeth to Jumin, ahaha. Then, we just have day 11, the party, and the epilogue. :D


	21. Chapter 21

M.C.’s new phone arrives by lunch time. She turns it on to find it already set up, the RFA app sitting prominently on the home screen. M.C. smiles and sends out silent thanks to Seven. She’d worried that she wouldn’t be able to download the app again or have the same permissions she’d need to coordinate the party. But when she opens it, she finds an inbox full of emails from guests, missed text messages, and several profile statuses concerned about her safety and the success of the party.

Despite not cooking for himself, M.C. finds that Jumin’s kitchen is well stocked. She makes herself a sandwich before settling down on the sofa, already anticipating several requests from RFA members not to skip her meals. 

Taking a bite out of her sandwich, M.C. scrolls through the chat log to get herself caught up.

Several messages have been sent from her user name, posted after her rescue from the Unknown hacker.

**M.C.:** Meet the people who will love you forever.

**M.C.:** Attend the endless party.

**M.C.:** Don’t you want to escape from this filthy world?

**M.C.:** This is an invitation

**M.C.:** to paradise.

**M.C.:** Are you suffering

**M.C.:** from your past?

**M.C.:** We will help the pain go away.

**M.C.:** A world filled with pleasure… A world filled with truth… A world with no tears… A world with no rejections…

**M.C.:** Accept the angel’s invitation.

**M.C.:** Magenta,

**M.C.:** Where everyone is happy... 

The hacker must have posted the messages when the other members of the RFA were not online, because the next message is timestamped a little over an hour later. 

**Yoosung:** M.C.! I can’t believe the hacker broken into Rika’s apartment. Are you alright? 

**Yoosung:** ...are you feeling okay?

**Yoosung:** what the heck is Magenta??

**Yoosung:** M.C.??

Yoosung leaves the chat room for several minutes.

**Yoosung:** Why aren’t you answering my calls???

The news must spread from there, because Yoosung leaves the chatroom again and re-enters it, followed by Zen, Jaehee, and 707.

**Zen:** What? What is all of this??

**Zen:** Why would M.C. say something so strange?

**Jaehee:** She was with the hacker for some time. You don’t think…?

**Yoosung:** What?

**Zen:** Jaehee, what are you saying?

**Jaehee:** I hate to say something like this, but what if the hacker

**Jaehee:** ...brainwashed M.C.?

**Yoosung:** !!!

**Yoosung:** Do you think it’s possible?!

**Zen:** Now way.

**Zen:** I was with her when we rescued her

**Zen:** and on the way back to Jumin’s place

**Zen:** She didn’t look brainwashed to me!

**Jaehee:** I don’t mean to say this

**Jaehee:** but can we really know for certain?

**707:** She’s not brainwashed.

**Zen:** See!

**Yoosung:** she’s not??

**Jaehee:** Luciel, how do you know?

**707:** No sign that her phone was hacked, but don’t you think Jumin would have said something if she started spouting off religious rhetoric??

**Jaehee:** We haven’t heard from either of them.

**Jaehee:** Mr. Han hasn’t answered any of my calls, either.

**707:** Well, it’s late now. They’re probably both sleeping.

**Zen:** :(

**Yoosung:** Zen??

**Zen:** :( :( :(

**Yoosung:** lololol Zen, what the heck;;;

**707:** Looks like a mass email went out to the party guests.

**707:** Fastest way to kick the hacker out is to just brick the phone

**707:** Everyone, go to bed. I’ll keep looking into this.

**707:** We’ll figure everything out in the morning.

**Zen:** like I can go to bed now;

**Yoosung:** right? Gonna go log into LOLOL ^^;;

**Jaehee:** Luciel, you will keep us updated??

**707:** ya

They exit the chatroom with varying amounts of grumbling.

M.C. skims through the rest of the chats. Jaehee checks in earlier in the morning, recounting the truth about her phone after speaking with Jumin. M.C. is a little offended that the others thought she’d been brainwashed by the hacker in the short time she was taken hostage. But she also knows Jaehee to be practical--it would be remiss of her _not_ to consider such a thing. And Jumin and M.C.’s radio silence the night before _could_ have been taken as further proof of something gone wrong.

She’s grateful, at least, that with the party looming just over the horizon, everything seems to have settled down.

That is, until she clicks into her email to a host of furious, annoyed, and baffled emails from the guests she’d been corresponding with. 

The mass email. She’d nearly forgotten. 

The contents seem to be the same invitation as the one in the chat room--the same nonsense about paradise, an eternal party, and whatever Magenta happens to be. 

M.C. sighs. She scarfs down the rest of her sandwich, cracks her knuckles, and dives in. She’s got a feeling it will be a _very_ long day.

 

M.C. puts her phone down with a sigh. She’s just convinced the last guest to attend the party, despite the breech in security and the contents of the hacker’s email. The sun is beginning to set, her phone has long since been plugged into an outlet, and she’s just now noticing how hungry she’s gotten.

She allows herself to flop down on the sofa, resting her arm over her eyes like a seventeenth century damsel. She gives herself a moment to lay there like that, before the mental image of herself makes her laugh. She rolls onto her side and finds her phone in her hand once more.

She hasn’t heard from Jumin, which she hopes means he’s been productive at work. She debates calling him, but doesn’t want to disturb him. Instead, she texts him, simply saying that she’s missed him while he’s been away and asking when he’ll be home.

M.C. closes her eyes, resting her phone next to her. She’s dozing when the phone buzzes, nearly twenty minutes later.

It’s Jumin. His words cause her heart to pound wildly in her chest and a warm flush to spread across her face.

_I missed you. More than you can know. I’ll be home shortly. Wait for me._

She can’t ignore the happiness that bubbles up inside her. She hugs the phone to her in an approximation of an embrace, smiling hugely.

 

She busies herself on her laptop, entertaining herself as she waits for Jumin to return home. When the door opens, M.C. smiles and slips her laptop closed. She gets up from the sofa and pads her way to him.

“M.C.,” he says, a soft smile on his face. “I trust you were not too bored without me?”

“Not at all,” she says. She slips her arms around his waist and tilts her head to look at him. “How was work?”

“Torturous.”

M.C. laughs. Jumin’s dark eyes sparkle with amusement. “However did you get through it?”

“By thinking of you.”

A blush works its way over her cheeks. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Jumin says. He draws her closer into his embrace, holding her tight. “Though, my thoughts pale in comparison to the real M.C..”

M.C. presses her face into Jumin’s chest. “You’re just saying that.”

He’s silent for a long moment, before pulling away. With a finger under her chin, Jumin lifts her head to look into her eyes. “I mean every word. You are the most kind, most compassionate, most beautiful woman I have had the pleasure of knowing.”

Her blush crawls into her hairline and up to the tips of her ears. “Thank you, Jumin.”

“You are welcome. Have you eaten?”

M.C. steps away from Jumin, allowing him to remove his shoes and his suit jacket. “Not yet. I wanted to wait for you.”

“Shall we call the chef?” 

Jumin digs into the pocket of his slacks for his phone while, at the same time, a knock sounds at the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” M.C. asks. She goes to answer the door, but Jumin blocks her path.

“No, I’m not,” Jumin says. “And my security team was not supposed to let anyone through.”

Could it be the hacker? If it were, would he bother to knock? “Maybe it’s Jaehee? Did you leave something at the office?”

Jumin shakes his head. 

Another knock. “Jumin, it’s me. Open up.”

“Who--?”

“It’s V.” Jumin unlocks the door and steps back as it swings open.

A blue-haired man stands on the other side. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and carrying a fluffy white cat.

“And Elizabeth the 3rd,” V says. “Hello Jumin. You must be M.C..”

Jumin blinks, clearly thrown off by the presence of his long time friend and his cat. “V. ...What are you doing here?”

“Aren’t you going to let us in?”

Jumin shakes himself out of his surprise. He opens the door further, allowing V and the cat entrance. 

Elizabeth squirms in V’s hold, eventually settling on the use of her claws to get her point across. She leaps from his arms, landing gracefully on the floor. She meows, stretches, then trots over to Jumin. She flops onto the floor, rolling around with her paws in the air by Jumin’s feet.

“Looks like she missed you,” M.C. says.

Indecision brews behind Jumin’s eyes. He looks from Elizabeth to M.C. to V and back to Elizabeth. His fingers twitch at his sides. “Elizabeth…”

Meowing again, Elizabeth swats at Jumin’s slacks playfully.

M.C. moves to Jumin’s side. Elizabeth’s eyes follow her movement, but return to Jumin. M.C. gives him an encouraging bump with her shoulder. “Go on.”

“Elizabeth,” Jumin says again. He crouches down and scoops her into his arms. She rubs her face against his. Jumin closes his eyes and buries his face in her fur.

M.C. smiles. “I think she’s happy to be home.”

“Yes,” V agrees. “I think she’s right where she wants to be. Where she belongs.”

Jumin shakes his head, his face still hidden in Elizabeth’s fur. Elizabeth blinks slowly, pleased with the attention.

“So,” V says, “are you still adamant that Elizabeth stay with me?”

Lifting his head, Jumin says, voice a little hoarse, “No. No, I was stupid for even entertaining the notion.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a good owner? Have your thoughts about that changed?”

Jumin’s eyes go to M.C.. A small smile graces his lips. “Yes. I’ve come to several realizations, thanks to M.C..”

“Good,” V says. “Because Elizabeth is only one of the reasons I’ve come to see you.”

“She’s not?” M.C. asks. “Is it about the party?”

V shifts his weight, leaning against a cane that M.C. hadn’t noticed. “In a way.”

“I apologize for not having done my part in suggesting guests,” Jumin says. “I trust everything is in order?”

“I have no doubts the party will be a success. No, I’m here to tell you I’ll be going away again. This time, for a long time.”

Jumin frowns. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure. I was hoping, in the meantime, that you might take over as leader of the RFA?”

Jumin places Elizabeth on the floor. She sits, primly, by his feet, as if she too is part of the conversation. “Where are you going?”

“I want to take advantage of my eyesight while I still have it. I was thinking of traveling the world--nowhere in particular--taking photographs.”

“V, you’re losing your sight?” M.C. asks.

“It was an accident, but yes. It fades more and more each day,” V says. “That’s why I want--no, need--to go. You understand, don’t you, Jumin?”

Jumin turns. He paces several steps away, Elizabeth at his heels. “No, I don’t. You don’t have to lose your sight. You could just have the surgery.”

M.C. senses that this is an old argument. “Should I step out for a moment? Give you guys some time to talk?”

“No,” Jumin says. At the same time, V says, “You don’t have to. I wasn’t going to take up any more of your time with Jumin.”

V turns to leave. “You will take over for me, Jumin? I know everything will be alright if I leave the RFA in your capable hands. Perhaps even better with you running things.”

“I--I’ll consider it, V.”

V smiles, small and sad. It makes M.C. think there may be something else going on, something V is holding back. “You’re a good friend, Jumin. Always have been.”

Jumin averts his eyes. “Goodbye, V.”

“Goodbye, Jumin.” V turns in M.C.’s direction. “Bye, M.C.. It was nice meeting you.”

Jumin is quiet for a long time after V leaves. M.C. knows that he needs time to process. After dinner, she curls up beside him on the sofa. Another movie plays, but M.C. busies herself with last minute questions from guests while Jumin pretends not to be deep in thought. 

Elizabeth settles down on Jumin’s lap. The fingers of one of his hands absentmindedly cards through Elizabeth’s fur. The other arm is around M.C.’s waist, holding her close.

Neither speaks, but they don’t have to. M.C. smiles and leans further into Jumin’s warm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, this chapter was kind of all over the place, but i felt like it was all important, so i just threw it all in anyway. hopefully, it was still good!
> 
> Day of the party up next. Then we've got an epilogue. Exciting!


	22. Chapter 22

Jumin isn’t beside her when M.C. wakes. But there is a note, crumpled under the body of a sleeping Elizabeth, on his pillow. M.C. pulls it free a centimeter at a time. Elizabeth opens one eye, watching her, but doesn’t stir from her spot. 

_M.C.,_

_As much as it pains me to leave you, there are a few last minute details left to arrange for today’s party. Assistant Kang shall arrive later to help you get ready._

_Please, allow me to spoil you just this once._

_Ever yours,_

_Jumin Han_

It only becomes clear what Jumin means by spoiling her when, after she’s had breakfast and showered and started to fret over what to wear for the party, Jaehee arrives to take her shopping.

“You can’t be serious,” M.C. says, staring at the upscale department store.

Jaehee hides a smile behind her hand. Her arms look empty, now that she isn’t carrying her clipboard. “Mr. Han said you might make a fuss.”

“I think this is deserving a little more than a fuss. I’ve never worn anything so expensive in my life.”

Jaehee takes her arm. “Technically, you have not _yet_ worn anything so expensive. Let’s go in. If nothing here suits you, I’ve been instructed to take you somewhere else.”

“No, no. I’m sure we’ll find something here. I don’t want to put you through any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, M.C.. Not only is this the most enjoyable task I’ve been assigned as Mr. Han’s assistant, you’ve also been instrumental in changes I’ve observed in him lately. Have I told you that he offered me a holiday after the party?”

M.C. smiles. “I thought I saw something like that in the messenger. That’s really great, Jaehee. Have you thought about where you want to go?”

Jaehee shakes her head. “Not yet. There are so many possibilities. I’ve been looking at travel guides and I’ve been doing some research online.”

M.C. laughs. It’s just like Jaehee to plan her holiday with the same diligence as she puts into being Jumin’s assistant. “Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself wherever you end up going.”

Allowing Jaehee to guide her through the store, M.C. tries to put her discomfort aside. She really does have nothing to wear to the party. The clothing she pilfered from Rika’s closet is much too casual. Instead of worrying about price tags--which Jaehee is careful to keep from her sights as much as possible anyway--M.C. should focus on having fun. It’s not often that she gets to try on dozens of elegant dresses.

Finally, M.C. emerges from the fitting room in a dress that makes Jaehee gasp. The personal assistant lights up, rising from her seat to get a closer look. 

“Oh, M.C.. You look gorgeous.”

M.C. twirls. She loves how the cascading fabric flows around her legs, like water running through a gentle stream. “You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

Unable to keep the grin from her face, M.C. says, “I feel sort of like a princess.”

“I would have to agree--you look like a princess. Is this the one?”

“You know what? I think it might be.”

“Good,” Jaehee says. “Now all we need is a pair of shoes to match.”

M.C. looks down at her plain black flats. “I couldn’t ask--”

“You are not asking, M.C.,” Jaehee reminds her. “This is a gift from Mr. Han.”

Warmth rises in her cheeks. “I know. I just--I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I don’t _need_ fancy dresses or shoes or anything really. I like Jumin for Jumin, not his money.”

“I think you will find,” Jaehee says, smiling gently, “that it is very difficult to separate Mr. Han from his money. But if anyone can teach him that love doesn’t need to be bought with gifts, it’s you, M.C..”

Blushing more deeply, M.C. retreats to the fitting room.

 

Dress and shoes purchased, both women return to Jumin’s penthouse. 

Jaehee must see M.C.’s disappointment in finding Jumin still absent because she smiles and says, “I wouldn’t worry. I doubt we’ll see him until the party.”

M.C. smiles back, feeling sheepish for being so obvious. 

Jaehee goes to the sofa, where she’d laid out a garment bag earlier. “Would you like to get dressed first, or shall I?”

“Go on, Jaehee. I’m curious to see what you picked out to wear.”

“It’s not quite as captivating as the dress you picked out, I’m afraid.”

M.C. is nearly afraid that Jaehee will walk out of the bathroom wearing a skirt, blouse, and jacket similar to the ones she’s seen Jaehee in for work. She’s pleasantly surprised when Jaehee walks out wearing a dark green dress with a peplum waist and a sweetheart neckline. She strides out, confident in black pumps, in a way that says she’s worn them all her life. 

“Jaehee,” she says. “you look amazing!”

Jaehee hides a smile behind her hand. “Thank you, M.C..”

M.C. takes her hand and squeezes it between both of hers. “I just want to tell you that I’m so glad to have another woman in the RFA. Especially one as kind and talented as you. I really could not have gotten my bearings as quickly as I did without you.”

Jaehee blinks. “I--I don’t know what to say, M.C.. Of course, I’m very glad to have met you, as well. I’d like to think of us as friends?”

Squeezing her hands once more before letting go, M.C. says, “Of course we’re friends. I know things have been pretty hectic, but after the party and after you’ve come back from your holiday, I think we should spend some real quality time together, okay?”

“Yes, I would like that.” Jaehee smiles. “Now go get dressed. We still have to do your hair.”

M.C. takes the bag with her dress and the box with her new shoes into the bathroom with her. She emerges wearing the princess gown, the fabric of her skirt cascading down around her legs like a waterfall. She fusses with the lace at her wrists, feeling a little like Jumin when he toys nervously with his cufflinks. 

Is she nervous? She is. She hadn’t realized it before, but now that she’s acknowledged it, butterflies begin to swarm in her stomach. 

Unused to wearing heels, M.C. stumbles a little as she goes to sit in the chair Jaehee points her to. The table is covered in beauty products--a makeup bag, a curling iron, a brush, elastic bands and several different types of pins.

“Do you have any requests?” Jaehee asks.

“I--really don’t know,” M.C. says. 

Jaehee smiles. “Don’t worry. I used to have much longer hair. I might be a little out of practice, but I think we can come up with something.”

Jaehee braids part of her hair, securing it at the base of her crown. She then curls the rest of M.C.’s hair, letting it fall gracefully around her shoulders in a simple yet elegant style.

“Beautiful,” Jaehee says, giving her curls one last spritz of hairspray.

“Thank you, Jaehee.”

M.C. feels a little of her nervousness melt away as she and Jaehee do their makeup. The conversation is casual and light, focused on the excitement for the party and their hopes for its success. By the time Driver Kim arrives to take them to the venue, M.C. has almost forgotten why she was nervous in the first place.

The swarm of journalists when they arrive, however, sends her nervousness crashing back.

Jaehee gives her a supportive smile before ushering her out the door.

After a week of planning, the RFA party has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little later than I hoped for it to be. I was sick all this weekend. I'm still not feeling well now, but I figured I'd better update, ahah. Hope ya'll enjoy it~


	23. Chapter 23

After twenty-seven years, Jumin Han is used to the flash of cameras and the clamor of reporters. It’s surrounded by the press that, ironically, Jumin is most calm. He knows, after hours of memorizing and rehearsing, exactly what he wants to say and how he will say it. He knows, after a lifetime of experience being in the public eye, exactly how the audience will respond.

“Excuse me,” Jumin says into the microphone. A camera lense flashes, but Jumin doesn’t even blink. “My name is Jumin Han. As many of you already know, I am the director of C&R. I am also a member of the RFA, and, as such, I would like to thank each and every one of you for attending today’s event.”

Polite applause from the audience. A few reporters raise their microphones higher, fighting for a better sound bite. 

“In just two hours, we will be holding an auction for charity. You will see a number of photographs up for bid, taken by renowned photographer Jihyun Kim. Unfortunately, the artist himself could not attend today’s gala, but I assure you, he sends his best regards.”

Jumin pauses pauses for effect. Several more cameras flash.

“Before that,” Jumin continues, “I have some news, that in the interest of transparency, I would like to share with you.”

Jumin’s eyes scan the crowd. The RFA members are huddled in a group around M.C., almost as if they are protecting her from prying eyes. Zen whispers frantically to Luciel, who grins and shrugs. Yoosung wrings his hands nervously, eyes shifting back and forth from Jumin to Jaehee. Jaehee, the only member with any forewarning, watches with a look of reluctant acceptance. This is not the first time--nor will it be his last--pulling a stunt like this. M.C., bright, beautiful M.C. pays none of them any attention, looking only at him. She smiles and waves when she notices his eyes on her. Jumin can’t help but smile back.

His father, Glam, and Sarah have formed their own clique, set a little apart from the main gathering of guests, surrounded by his father’s bodyguards. His father has crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed on Jumin on the stage. Glam attaches herself to his father’s arm and whispers behind a cupped hand in his father’s ear. His father doesn’t answer, but Glam shoots a pleased smile at Sarah. Sarah giggles, much too loud. She scowls at guests who attempt to shush her, before returning her expectant gaze to Jumin.

“In recent news, you may have heard a rumor of my engagement. From sources nowhere as reputable as yourselves, of course.”

The reporters in the audience laugh.

“Mr. Han! Does this mean the rumor isn’t true? Are you not engaged after all?”

Jumin smiles, indulgent. “All will be revealed shortly. But to answer your question, the rumor is wholly unfounded.”

Jumin had expected the riot of comments and questions to erupt. He waits for the noise to die down before continuing. “I regret to have to inform you of the true character of Sugar Round’s current CEO. As her company hit bankruptcy and she herself fell into more and more debt, it seems a deal was struck between her teacher, Glam Choi, to insinuate herself into my family. She could then sell her company for a price higher than it is worth and live her days in the lap of luxury.”

Gasps come from the audience. Jumin’s father’s face has begun to turn an interesting shade of red. Glam holds onto Sarah’s shoulders, keeping the other woman from running off and making a spectacle of herself.

“I would like to say that this is the end of Sarah’s treachery. However, this is not the case. I apologize, Father, for revealing such information in this way, but Glam Choi has deceived you, as well. Sarah, it seems, is not Ms. Choi’s student, but is, in fact, her sister. Sarah has undergone extreme plastic surgery to change her appearance, but if you dig further than the fake identification on her person, you will find that they are related to one another, by blood.”

More rumbling from the audience. Glam lets go of Sarah, only to step forward herself. “That’s a lie! How dare you spread such slander! And against your own father!”

Jumin holds up an manila envelope. “I have proof. Which any one of our friends in the press will find to be legitimate.”

Jumin’s father, his hands curled into furious fists by his side, whispers something to the bodyguard standing by his side. The man nods and signals to the other bodyguards. Sarah and Glam screech in protest as they are escorted from the main hall.

“I will sue you, Jumin Han!” Sarah screams. “I will sue _everyone_ who even _thinks_ to put my name in the papers! Do you hear me?! _Everyone!_ ”

All eyes return to Jumin at the podium after the sisters disappear from sight. “I apologize for such a scene.”

“Mr. Han,” another reporter shouts, “you’re known as something of a bachelor. If the rumors of your engagement are untrue, can you tell us, is there someone special in your life?”

“As you well know, I am an intensely private man,” Jumin says. “I’m afraid I’m not willing to say, at the moment, whether such a person exists.”

“But, Mr. Han--”

“Mr. Han! Mr. Han!”

“Mr. Han, over here!”

“This concludes the press conference. Please, help yourselves to refreshments. I hope to see you at the auction in a few short hours.” Jumin heads off of the stage. He wants to go directly to the RFA, to M.C. more specifically, but the eyes of the press are still upon him. He gives them a small wave as he passes them, but makes his way to his father.

“That was uncalled for, my son.”

“I knew you would not listen. I’m sorry for making a spectacle of our family. That was not my intention.” 

His father scoffs. “I rather think it was.” His eyes soften and the older man lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping. “I was taken for a fool. You tried to warn me, but I was too taken in by my feelings for Glam to listen to you.”

“Still--I regret that it had to come to this. Would you--would you like to stay? For the rest of the party? I know you have always admired Jihyun’s work.”

Jumin’s father smiles and claps Jumin on the shoulder. “Perhaps another time. I should return to work. Our PR reps will be having a field day after this little stunt.”

“I will see you next Sunday for dinner?” Jumin asks. He feels lighter now than he has in a very long time, his anger with his father evaporating now that the engagement has officially been called off.

“Perhaps before then, my son.” Jumin’s father turns to leave, taking his bodyguards with him. He turns back to Jumin. “Listen. Is that young lady--the one who has so clearly taken your heart--is she here?”

“Without her, this entire event would not have been possible,” Jumin says. It’s neither a confirmation nor a denial.

Jumin’s father smiles. “I see. Well, don’t be afraid to invite her to dinner, as well. I would like to meet this remarkable woman.”

“She is quite remarkable,” Jumin says, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He ducks his head in an attempt to hide the blush.

His father laughs and resumes his exit from the hall.

Jumin gives himself a moment to gather his bearings, before he turns back to join the RFA.

“Jumin!” Zen calls, as soon as Jumin is in earshot. “What the hell, dude?”

Luciel elbows Zen, grinning at Jumin. “Zen’s just jealous that he wasn’t in the spotlight for once.”

Yoosung, his brows drawn down in concern, says, “You don’t think this’ll harm the party’s reputation do you? We’ll still be able to help people, right?”

“I hate to say this,” Jaehee says, smiling to take the heat out of her words, “but Mr. Han knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, well, I guess,” Zen says. “He is a director and all.”

“But, Jumin,” Luciel says, “you left this pretty lady to fend for herself.”

M.C. steps forward, dazzling in a dress made from starlight. “Don’t worry. I had this whole gaggle of people to protect me.”

“Gaggle,” Yoosung and Luciel say, at the same time. They look at each other, point, and break down into laughter.

“M.C. is so cute,” Zen says. He turns a serious look on Jumin. “But I know you’ll treat her right.”

“I’m right here,” M.C. says, a reproachful smile on her face. 

Jumin takes M.C.’s hand in his, bowing low over it. He brushes the delicate skin of her wrist with his lips. “I would hate to take you away from your...gaggle.”

Yoosung and Luciel dissolve into more laughter.

“But?” M.C. asks.

“But,” Jumin continues, “I was wondering if you would do me the honor of sharing a dance with me?”

“I would be delighted to.”

M.C. allows Jumin to guide her out onto the dance floor. A string quartet plays off to one side. Jumin pulls M.C. in close, forgoing the traditional walz stance in favor of holding M.C..

“Are the RFA parties normally this exciting?” M.C. asks.

Jumin breathes out a laugh through his nose. “Not usually. I trust you were not offended?”

“By what?”

“Our...relationship is so new. I did not want to announce anything to the public. Not ever, if I can help it. I grew up under public scrutiny and I cannot presume to ask the same of you. Besides, you know I’d like to keep you all to myself.”

M.C. smiles. “You won’t be able to keep me a secret forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“But, I appreciate you protecting me from the press. I didn’t have a statement prepared, because _someone_ kept all of this a secret.”

Jumin twirls her, using it as an excuse to pull her even closer. “Will you forgive me?”

“On one condition,” M.C. says.

“Oh?”

“I believe you expressed a desire to take me on a date?” A pretty pink blush spreads over M.C.’s cheeks.

Jumin smiles. “For you, my love, anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS!! That's it!! That's the end!! Well, we've still got an epilogue to go, but still! 
> 
> You have all been seriously excellent! Thank you, thank you, thank you for sticking with me for this fic!


	24. Epilogue

**One Year Later…**

“Jumin,” M.C. says. The sand is warm between her toes. The sea breeze pulls at the cover-up tied around her waist and threatens to send the wide brimmed hat on her head flying. “I leave you for five minutes and you’re on your phone. We’re on _vacation_.And you, my dear--” M.C. plucks the phone from his hand, setting it down on the table beside his chair, “--are supposed to be resting.”

Jumin smiles up at her, sheepish for having been caught working. “My new chief assistant--”

“Will be fine for a couple of days. I promise, just as I promised you last night and the day before and the day before that. The company doesn’t go under every time your father takes a holiday, does it?”

Jumin huffs a laugh. “I suppose you are right.”

M.C. sits down on the edge of his beach chair. Jumin moves his legs, giving her more room. “Of course I’m right. How are you feeling?”

For the last few weeks, Jumin has been spending more and more time at work. M.C. knows that he has a tendency to start new projects when he’s stressed. And with Jaehee having quit to become Zen’s manager and with a new chief assistant hired in her place, Jumin has been more than a little stressed.

“Good, now that you’re here. How was the water?”

“Excellent. I wanted to see if you’d like to join me for a swim?”

“I--yes,” Jumin says. But he averts his gaze. One of his hands goes to his wrist, where a cufflink would be if he were wearing a suit--a sure sign that something is up.

“Jumin? Is something wrong?”

“No,” he says, much too quickly. He sits upright in his chair and takes one of her hands in his. He kisses her knuckles, one by one. “I--well, I--There is a question. That I wanted to ask of you.”

M.C.’s brows draw down in concern. “You know you can ask me anything. You don’t have to be nervous.”

He meets her eyes, briefly, giving her a small smile. “It’s been on my mind for a while now. I wanted to wait--everything should be perfect. But I thought...maybe now is the time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I sent you away once,” Jumin says. “It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. It put you in danger and--”

“Jumin,” M.C. says. She cups his face, brushing her thumb across the swell of his cheekbone. “That was a long time ago.”

“I know. I didn’t want to lose you. And I almost lost you forever. Because I was afraid.”

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’m right here.”

“But I _am_ afraid,” he says. “Now more than ever. I love you, M.C..”

“I love you too, Jumin.” 

Jumin smiles, still nervous, but with the same joy she sees every time she tells him those three little words. “I’m glad. Because I wanted to ask you. If you would always stay by my side. Will you--will you marry me, M.C.?”

M.C.’s heart pounds in her chest, but she can barely feel it under the joy that bubbles up inside of her. She puts her hands over her heart, then up to cover her mouth. “Oh, Jumin. Of course I will.”

Jumin shifts closer, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other tangles in the hair at the back of her neck. He tilts his head and leans in to kiss her, but her hat gets in the way. Giggling, she tears the hat from her head, throwing it to land somewhere in the sand. Jumin smiles and leans in once more, meeting her lips in a kiss.

A thought occurs to her and M.C. pulls away, laughing. “Does this mean we can finally move in together?”

Jumin pulls her in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And that's a wrap!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my take on Jumin's route! Thanks for sticking with me through my first fic in the Mystic Messenger fandom! I appreciate all of you--you're such excellent readers and I've enjoyed every kudos, comment, and bookmark that I've received in the last few weeks. 
> 
> Thank you, truly, for reading.


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